30 Kisses: The Serpent and the Jackal
by Amethyst Hunter
Summary: Bitten by each other's respective fangs, Ban and Akabane find themselves inexplicably drawn together over the course of an unusual relationship.
1. 30 Kisses Introduction

30kisses: The Serpent and the Jackal

Notes To The Reader:

This is an in-progress series of various theme challenges for the LiveJournal community 30kisses, focusing on the relationship between Ban and Akabane. Warnings vary by story and will be labeled as such; expect m/m pairings. They're kind of meant to be a whole series, but each of these could be read as a stand-alone. I tried to keep it simple, heh. Most of these are based on anime continuity, although I may throw in a few manga references from time to time - I just happen to be more of a visual/action-oriented person and thus I am more familiar with the anime. :)


	2. Small Compromises

Title: Small Compromises

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #26 – "if only I could make you mine"

Disclaimer: No ownage, no money. Done purely for my own amusement.

Rating: PG

Warnings/Spoilers: None

Notes: Thanks to Nekofreak, who beta'd for me. :)

Summary: Flexibility and the little things in life...

--

Ban's desires are simple: shelter, sex and smokes. Aside from his other requirements (Ginji's friendship, gas for his car, a huge bank account to continually drain for various expenses), these are the fundamentals that keep him going on a daily basis. He doesn't always get them, of course, but it's good to have goals.

Akabane's desire is even simpler. Or at least it used to be until he met the Get Backers. Previously, if asked (and assuming the questioner survived long enough to hear the answer), he would have said his only desire was for entertainment. The basics that Ban concerns himself with – food and shelter, for instance – register as barely a blip for Akabane; they are merely formalities to be dealt with as required and this is done easily enough, for unlike 'Ol Blue Eyes Akabane is quite good at making and managing money. It's a fact that pisses Ban off to no end, and not just because of how Akabane gets that money in the first place.

Desires are fluid and shift seamlessly depending on the situation.

Ban's are still the same, though he's added to his list recently. A place to sleep. Some nooky, if he's in the mood for it. A good toke on a 'cancer-cane,' as Ginji calls them. And for Akabane to quit with the bullshit already. Just how many rematches does one have to have anyway before it's painfully clear that one has an abundance of ass-kicking power, for God's sake?

Akabane still desires to be entertained, usually in the manner in which he has long since become accustomed to – but somewhere along the way things changed, and it's not quite the priority it once was. It's the most peculiar enigma, one that's puzzling and frustrating and fascinating and breathtaking and –

- it makes him feel strangely, magnificently _alive_ in a way that even the most serious of battles never could, perhaps for the first time in...who knows how long. Were he a more emotional person, he could almost hate Ban for that. Some secrets are too maddening to be tempted with.

And some truths are too priceless to let go of no matter how much grief they may bring. This is how Ban knows that, for better or worse, a jackal has come to stay with the Honky Tonk's ever-growing family, for he cannot bring himself to condemn a wounded hunter when he himself has been down that same route. Mercy's tender kiss is what saved him from the final blow; he can do no less to honor his precious guardian than to extend that same mercy to a kindred spirit...with the hope that someday, perhaps, it might be accepted as the gift it is meant to be.

So they've compromised. Akabane will handle their accommodations and take care of whatever expenses Midou-kun incurs, up to and (especially) including ones that are vehicle-related. He will also do his best to stay the knife-play inasmuch as this is possible for him; Akabane's self-control isn't quite the paragon most people think it is, particularly when the fever in his blood begins a siren song he is compelled to follow. In return, Ban will, nicotine fits aside, keep the indoor smoking to a minimum, and occasionally give Jackal what he wants, what he craves – in reasonable amounts, of course. It's all about the moderation.

True, these are small compromises in the greater scheme of things. But everyone has to start somewhere...


	3. Hail To The King

Title: Hail To The King

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #16 – "invincible; unrivaled"

Rating: PG (swearing)

Warnings/Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

Status: Complete. One-shot.

Summary: Ban pwns j00 all in a classic game...or does he?

--

"I wish they wouldn't do that in here," Paul complained as he poured Shido another cup of coffee. "They're scaring the customers."

Shido inhaled the delicious fragrance and sipped at his cup before replying. "Blame the snake-man, he started it."

They both looked to the far corner. In a booth were two people, each with one fist raised towards the other. Each man wore a deadly serious expression of intense focus. A battle of wits was about to commence, with a third man – perched above them on the window ledge – keeping track of the score.

Ginji waved his hand. "Go!"

"One – two – three – HA! Rock breaks scissors!" Ban announced triumphantly, smacking his fist on the countertop. "I win again. The invincible Midou Ban-sama has spoken!"

Across from him, Akabane frowned faintly. "I still do not see the point to this game, much less your enthusiasm for it."

"You're just saying that because you're losing," Ban said with a smirk. He glanced up at Ginji. "How many is that now?"

Ginji risked a somewhat nervous peek at Akabane. "Um, you're up to eight now, Ban-chan." Not wanting to be caught between a rock and a hard place, he added, "But Akabane-san's almost gotten you a few times. He's getting better."

His brownnosing paid off; Akabane favored him with a pleasant smile. "Thank you, Ginji-kun."

"Getting better?" Ban snorted. "Ginji, you need glasses. Jackal has no clue as to what he's doing. He keeps using scissors when he should be mixing it up."

Akabane's smile cooled a degree or two. "Best of nine, then," he said.

Ban grinned. "I swear, I've never met anybody who enjoys being dominated by me as much as you do. Just can't get enough of that 'ol masochism, can you? I told you once and I'll tell you again. Nobody beats me at this game. Because I'm the great Ban-sama. Right, Ginji?"

Ginji smiled, trying not to let his trepidation show. "Sure, Ban-chan. But...you know, it's not Akabane-san's fault that he's not familiar with Rock-Paper-Scissors. I mean, it took me forever to learn it, even with you teaching me."

"And you still get your ass beat by me," Ban said unrepentantly.

Shido interrupted from the counter. "What are you guys playing for, again?"

Ginji hopped off the ledge he was sitting on and joined him to explain. "Well, see, Ban-chan and I had this recovery job a couple days ago where we had to find this antique vase that was mistakenly left at a dealership, and while we were browsing these shops trying to locate it we ran into Akabane-san. He, uh, sort of helped us pick the right vase –"

"Did not," Ban said without looking up from his spot at the booth.

" – and when we took it back to the client he was so excited I guess he thought that Akabane-san was with us, because when he wrote out the check he made it out to all three of us –"

"I do believe I have rightfully earned my share," Akabane stated.

" – only Ban-chan got upset but by the time we discovered the mistake the client had already taken off, so now we have to decide how to split the money," Ginji finished.

"Ain't no deciding about it, you eel," Ban told him. "That's Get Backers money, pure and simple. Jackal's not even in the picture." He pointedly ignored the raised eyebrow Akabane sent in his direction.

"But Ban-chan, he did help us find the vase," Ginji protested, not so much out of a sense of righteousness as a fear of an erupting battle between the two. "I would think that's worth at least something..."

"Ginji's got a point," Shido said. "Fair's fair, after all."

"Hell no! That's my ciggy cash," Ban said. He saw Shido flick a wary glance towards Akabane, who was wearing the kind of coolly polite expression that said good manners only extended so far before a scalpel-pitching tantrum was in the works. Ban glowered at them both. "Shut up, monkey trainer."

Shido shrugged. "Don't look at me. He's your boyfriend, you deal with it."

"Believe me, I will." Ban turned back to Akabane. "So, you wanna go again, or have you had enough of me whupping your skinny ass for one day?"

Akabane's smile was razor-sharp in its challenge. "I am up to another round if you are, Midou-kun."

"Great! Ginji, get over here and referee." Meekly Ginji obeyed, this time taking up position in front of the booth so he could beat a fast retreat backwards if things turned ugly. "Ready?"

"Ready, Ban-chan."

"You ready, Jackal?"

"I am."

Ginji held up one hand. "One...two...three...go!" he said, swinging his arm down. Immediately both Ban and Akabane shook fists at each other while Ban counted off the beats.

"One – two – three – "

"Rock beats paper!" Akabane announced with rich satisfaction. His smirk was ripe in its triumph.

"It does not!" Ban all but roared, slamming his fist down on the table. "How many times do I have to explain it, paper wraps rock. Idiot!"

"No, it doesn't. Rock punches through paper," Akabane said, a shade of defiance coloring his tone somewhat. "And I shall thank you to refrain from insulting me so rudely, Midou-kun."

"Then stop being so stupid about it," Ban snapped. "Any idiot knows that paper has always, _always_ wrapped rock, it's never the other way around!"

Akabane's frown deepened. "That was not the way it was explained to me."

"Yeah? Who taught you these half-assed rules you're using, one of Monkey-Man's squirrels?" Shido snarled a curse at that.

Akabane's voice turned deadly soft. "There is no need to be so unpleasant towards everyone when it is quite obvious you are in the wrong, Midou-kun." Narrowed purple eyes flickered in Ginji's direction for a moment. "Ginji-kun taught me how to play, if that's what you wanted to know..."

All looks settled on Ginji, who turned pale and gulped. "I never said I was an expert, I just said I had a basic understanding of the principles..." he whimpered.

"The principles of a gnat's brain, maybe!" Ban snorted. "Listen up, you morons. This is the natural evolutionary order of things: Rock breaks scissors. Scissors cuts paper. Paper wraps rock. You never ever deviate from this cycle. We're talking ageless fundamental laws of the universe here, for cryin' out loud. Breaking them is like inducing cosmic chaos that will disrupt the larger balance and throw the whole system out of whack!"

Silence reigned in the coffee shop for several moments as everybody stared at him.

"Dude, you're a jackass," Shido pronounced.

Ban shot to his feet. "And you're six goats shy of a herd if you think I'm gonna kiss even one dime of this – " he pulled a crumpled check out of his pants pocket and waved it in Shido's face – "little beauty goodbye. Know why? 'Cause I'm the bloody invincible do-not-screw-with-me Get Backers King of Ban-Midou-Sama games, that's why!"

Ban started to stuff the check back into his pocket when the whisper of a _snip! _drew his attention.

"What the hell?"

It was then that he, and everyone else, saw the other half of a piece of paper fluttering to the floor.

Ginji's jaw about hit the floor. "He _so_ did _not _just do that!" Nearby, Shido and Paul were almost choking on their laughter as they watched Ban's face turn lovely shades of rainbow.

"...is...that..._MY MONEY!_"

Akabane bent down and picked up the severed piece of check. He tucked it into a breast pocket of his coat and smiled at them, saluting the group with two scalpel-laden fingers that clicked together. "As you said, Midou-kun. Scissors cuts paper." He tipped his hat with a smile and wink. "See you at the bank."

"_YOU TWO-FACED SONOFABITCHIN' RAT ASS WEASEL SNAKE-HUMPING JACKAL! YOU'RE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH TONIGHT, D'YA HEAR ME AKABANE!"_

"Hey! My place is a blood-free zone. Remember that," Paul said as he and Ginji struggled to hold back a raging Ban from disemboweling the check-defiler.

Shido jumped up from his seat and blew past them. He clapped a companionable arm around Akabane as they exited the Honky Tonk. "You know, Dr. J, this could be the start of a beautiful new friendship..."


	4. Eye of the Hurricane

Title: Eye of the Hurricane

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #6 – "the space between dream and reality"

Rating: PG (m/m implied)

Warnings/Spoilers: Possibly fluffy. Proceed with tolerance of soft, fuzzy things.

Status: Complete. One-shot, part of the 30kisses series.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em and last I looked I was still broke.

Notes: Thanks to Nekofreak for betaing. :)

Summary: Every ship needs a safe harbor when the storm front approaches.

--

It's raining outside, huge buckets of water pouring from the sky as though a giant water main somewhere had erupted. This in itself is discouraging enough, but accompanying it is thunder, repeated crashes and booms and lightning that sizzles with malevolence. Each time it flashes, Ban cringes inside, bracing for the nerve-jarring explosion he knows is coming a second later.

He's not afraid, but he doesn't like storms. Never has, never will. They remind him too much of certain things better left unsaid, things that ought to remain buried but will always be dredged up by the catalyst of thunder. Like Yamato dying, or Reitai's bleak rage, Himiko's tears, his mother's fears, his father's legacy. The counts keep coming, along with the hail of lightning and the roar of thunder. It's like he's been cast adrift in his own personal hurricane, but he can't find that center lull long enough to lose himself in a sleep that will shelter him from the storm's other half.

Ban curls up tighter, burrowing his head into the pillow to try to muffle the noise though it's a futile effort anyway. Likewise the noise in his head – for every sharp crack he hears it's one more unwelcome thought intruding into the jumble of misery that's strung his muscles tight. He wishes Ginji was here because Ginji would understand, but that idiot, bless him, has the unique ability to sleep through anything, anywhere – including the cacophony of a thunderstorm. And Ban is loath to sneak next door to the other apartment and disturb his partner's rest for the sake of commiserating.

He feels a looming presence behind him that has nothing to do with the storm, then the bed dips slightly and another body, slender and willowy but steely in its strength, slips beneath the covers next to him.

Akabane has joined him.

Ban tenses at first, because he's not sure what to expect from the jackal. Bad weather has varying effects on Akabane; if he's lucky, they'll only have sex tonight. But the folding of arms around him, molding his back to a bare chest and the soft sigh of settling breath on his nape, eases his concerns. With a little shifting and rearranging of bodies, of blankets, they can even form their own cocoon to ride out the storm. Ban rolls over and pulls Akabane closer, tucking his head against the slope of a pale shoulder.

He inhales the sweet scent of soap; Jackal's been in the shower recently, for his hair is still somewhat damp. Humidity has made a few of the end strands curl slightly, mostly wisps around his face and the nape of his neck. This should be a wholly pleasant fragrance, for his lover is meticulous and dainty as a cat in his ablutions...except that Ban can smell, underneath the cleanliness and natural musk, a coppery tang that shouldn't be there. He knows Akabane was out on a job earlier, and he wonders how many J's split the night long before the lightning started its carvings.

As if sensing his thoughts, the jackal creeps closer to Ban. Elegant fingers, long arms curl around Ban's bare skin, wrapping his back in what almost seems like a reassuring embrace. One slender hand goes between their bodies and draws one of Ban's hands to a spot curving just above Akabane's hip. He's wearing black silk pajama pants, and Ban has to tug the elastic down a bit to reach the area Jackal is guiding him to: a gauze patch about the size of a box of cigarettes, also damp. But not all from the shower. Ban's fingers come away a bit sticky, and the blood scent is a little stronger than before.

He lifts his head, meeting a pair of mournful-looking purple eyes shaded by soft waves of black hair. No fun tonight, evidently, a prospect supported when the jackal flinches ever so slightly, as a vicious bolt dances across the sky with the echo of thunder swiftly following its wake. Akabane doesn't seem to care much for storms either, though for differing reasons than Ban's. They stir the murky waters within and rouse a hunter that must be appeased.

Violet eyes beseech him in their intensity: _will you fight with me tomorrow? Will you give me what I need?_

Twin sapphires answer back, just as silent, just as steady: _Yes, I will take care of you._

The violet warms to a near-rosy hue as Akabane's gaze softens with affection, and an odd relief. The sudden glare of lightning illuminates their silhouettes, suspending them somewhere between this world and another as a mutual understanding is shared. And for that brief heartbeat, Ban sees him as he must have once been, what a part of him might still be - not a jackal, not a doctor, just a man, another lost soul seeking his place in this world like everyone else. A place where he belongs...a place he is needed. Wanted.

Somewhere he is cared for.

This, too, is all Ban has ever wanted since learning of his cursed heritage and the prices he pays for that. He discovered it in his too-short time with Yamato and Himiko. He found it when he met Ginji and the Reitai atop a limitless mountain. He meets it each time he walks into a small coffee shop owing its owner an endless tab, and squabbling or communing with its various patrons, depending on his mood and the personalities present. And he feels it, of all places, in the den of a jackal. Sometimes.

His tension easing now, Ban closes his eyes and squeezes the warm body he's holding tighter to him; Akabane does likewise as he clings back, and somehow the snarling thunder doesn't seem as loud or as threatening anymore. There are no biting knives and no stinging serpentine kisses between them. Just two people needing a safe port and finding it together in each other's arms.

--

And this is how Ginji sees them the next morning when he comes to wake Ban, and he smiles, having learned long ago the lessons of the storm.


	5. The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Title: The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #12 – "in a good mood"

Rating: PG (swearing, implied violence)

Warnings/Spoilers: Sort of AU necessitating the indirect presence of Fudou, unfortunately for him. -cackles-

Status: Complete. Can be read as either a one-shot or a continuation of this series.

Disclaimer: I do not own.

Notes: Thanks to Nekofreak for betaing. :)

Summary: Gift-giving, Akabane-style...!

--

Akabane strolls along the sidewalk, humming a jaunty little tune under his breath as he balances the brightly-wrapped gift box he's carrying in his arms. He holds it close as if it's the most precious thing in the world to him, even though it isn't. But a good transporter is always mindful of his cargo's importance, and by his own modest admission he is excellent at what he does.

Besides, the box isn't for him. It's for Midou-kun.

It isn't strictly true that Dr. Jackal gets pleasure solely from fighting and killing. Lesser things have the capacity to induce a kind of euphoria within him as well, and one of these is the opportunity to bestow little appreciations of a sort upon those who have survived to garner his favor. Marking his territory, as it were, without all the fuss that a bloody J involves. According to Midou-kun this is quite a juvenile practice, to sign his moniker with a flourish as if to say "Look what I can do!" like one of the young punks that occasionally decorates an alley wall with spray paint. But then Midou-kun can be rather juvenile himself sometimes, so it's not as if he has any room to point fingers.

Ah, but today is not a day for accusations. It is a day for fun, and the sharing of one's affections with one's lover.

The idea of spontaneously gifting Midou-kun with a surprise came to him in, of all places, the middle of a fight. Perhaps it was spurred by the thrill of physical exertion; there is a reason exercise is so essential to the body's well-being after all. Or maybe it was inspiration brought on by finally crossing swords with an opponent that was a halfway decent challenge for a change. That clairvoyance had been _very _interesting to deal with. Pity it couldn't have lasted longer, but a schedule's a schedule, and Akabane is nothing if not professional in his dealings, including those of punctuality.

He crosses the street, looking both ways before proceeding, still measuring his steps in time with his humming. There's almost a little bounce to his walk, so buoyant is his mood today that even minor nuisances like the slow pedestrian light at the next crosswalk can't tweak him. He smiles at those whom he passes, pauses to offer friendly words to any who speak to him. Today has been a very good day and he can afford to be generous.

He can't wait to see Midou-kun's reaction to his present. He might like it, or he might hate it. Either way he will know it for what it is meant to be, and regardless of his reaction Akabane is guaranteed his entertainment for the evening. He licks his lips and his pulse quickens just a bit at the thought of myriad possibilities.

Midou-kun excites him in ways he hadn't thought possible, fascinates him on every level. What would it be called, he muses, to find oneself so besotted by another that that person occupies so many of his waking thoughts, and more than a few dreams? The least he can do is try to be as engaging, as captivating. It wouldn't do for either of them to become bored with this new challenge they've mutually accepted.

A bit of conversation floats by as he passes a couple window-shopping. "...don't know what to get her...not sure if she likes these, but..." "...then what should we do with it?" "...oh, I don't know, this is so difficult..."

Akabane doesn't understand why some people fret over choosing gifts. Picking out the perfect present is part of the fun. But then, he's never lacked for creativity where gift-giving is concerned. He smiles and lovingly pats the box. It's smooth and cool to the touch, as it should be. He made sure to put in plenty of ice.

His path takes him down the street where the Honky Tonk is. It's amusing that Midou-kun's and Ginji-kun's favorite hangout should be this quaint little place, but it does have a unique charm of its own, even if it is located in a rather drab section of town. But perhaps this is part of its appeal, this camouflage. On impulse, he decides to drop in and see if Midou-kun is around. He had planned on giving him his present back at their apartment, but it might be more fun if there's an audience...

Alas, no one is inside, save for the proprietor, Paul, and his industrious helper Natsumi. Sweet girl, that one, always so animated and eager to offer service. And she makes some lovely coffee. Ah, wait, there's Midou-kun over in the corner, nursing one of his cigarettes along with the requisite drink. It must not have been as pleasant a day for him, if he's smoking this early. He doesn't look very happy.

Akabane's smile widens. Well, he can certainly fix that. Holding the box aloft, he approaches Midou-kun's table with the air of a returning hunter triumphant from his catch.

Midou-kun is apparently in a worse mood than he thought, for although he nods in acknowledgement of his company he doesn't bother to look up at Akabane. "What d'you want, Jackal?" he mutters.

"Hello, Midou-kun. I brought you something," Akabane singsongs in his sly manner. "Perhaps it will lift your spirits, if you care to see it..."

That gets Midou-kun's attention. Experience is a wonderful teacher and he's learned the hard way that ignoring Akabane when he wants his focus not only fails to make him go away, it can result in some rather nasty altercations. Not a problem for Akabane, of course, but Midou-kun is picky about these sorts of things. He looks up, sees Jackal and the box he's presenting him with, and his expression – already a dark spot on the horizon – takes on a distinctly stormy overcast.

"What's this?" Midou-kun asks, suspicion heavy in his voice. Akabane feels faintly piqued by this despite his amusement at his lover's obvious wariness. Does Midou-kun think him so crass as to have the appallingly rude taste to prompt a fight in the middle of a public establishment? Honestly.

"I acquired it from a gentleman I met while on a job near Mugenjou," Akabane explains patiently, refusing to be deterred in his enthusiasm. "I thought you might find it pleasing. Go ahead, open it." He offers the box, laying it gently on the table.

Midou-kun takes a long, slow drag on his cigarette, stubs it out in the ashtray while blowing a stream of smoke over the gift. It's a long, narrow box, like the kind one would use to transport flower bouquets, but neither breath of lily nor kiss of tulip lies within. He doesn't think that Midou-kun is the type for flowers. That's probably more Ginji-kun's department.

Midou-kun sighs after a moment of consideration, and starts to untie the ribbon on the lid. "Okay, I'll bite."

He makes short work of the ribbon and lifts the lid partway before a strangled sound escapes his throat, and it's all Akabane can do not to say anything. "_The fuck!_ Did Paul see you bring this in!" Midou-kun hisses furiously as he slams the lid back down tight, eyes darting frantically around for possible observers.

Luck is with them. Wisely, Paul had found some business that needed attending to in the back room as soon as Akabane entered the shop. As for Natsumi, she's at the front counter trying to glue a broken mug – one that's apparently been shattered many times before – back together, and is therefore too engrossed to take notice of the couple in the back.

"It looks best in full lighting, Midou-kun – "

Midou-kun shoots to his feet. He grabs the box in one hand, Akabane's arm in the other, and growls, "Home. _Now._" And before Akabane can say anything more he's being dragged out of the Honky Tonk and towards the apartment they share.

"Hey, how about coughing up some dough for that drink you just had?" Paul must have a talent for timing, to reappear just when they are leaving. Before Midou-kun can suggest that the proprietor attempt to do something to himself which is anatomically impossible Akabane reaches into a pocket of his coat and tugs forth a few bills for payment. It's a wonder his lover is even still allowed in this place, his debt must be astronomical by now.

"You couldn't have waited to show me this at home?" comes a sharp hissing near his ear once they're outside and moving.

Hmm. Midou-kun must really find his gift interesting for it to have provoked such a reaction. Akabane is almost giddy with delight as he lets himself be towed along, fantasies of colorful variations spinning through his imagination while he wonders how Midou-kun plans to thank him. "I wanted to surprise you," he says, unable to keep the smirk from forming on his lips.

"Consider me thoroughly surprised."

It doesn't take long for them to reach their dwelling; Midou-kun chose it with the express purpose of having his favorite haunt within walking distance. This suits Akabane just fine. The less time he has to spend looking for his favorite playmates, the more time he'll have to enjoy himself. He obediently follows – not that he has much choice; Midou-kun's grip on his arm is as strong as ever – inside the building, and upstairs to the apartment they share.

They get inside and Midou-kun kicks the door shut, double-checking that it's locked – no doubt to make sure that Ginji-kun doesn't suddenly pop in, as is his habit – before tossing the box onto a coffee table and releasing Akabane with a rough shove. He watches as Midou-kun practically tears the lid off the box and rips out the decorative paper that's been artfully arranged within to reveal the gift's prize. Happily, the protective plastic it's in has not leaked, and so there is no mess to worry about leaking onto the table.

He points at it and gives Akabane a fierce scowl. "Care to explain that?"

"Temper, Midou-kun. If you look more closely, I think you'll find something to enjoy about it."

Midou-kun gives him a disbelieving glare, but he does as he's told, and when it finally dawns on him what's so unique about this present, Akabane feels a rich satisfaction deep in his chest as he watches the expression taking over Midou-kun's face. His plan has worked perfectly.

Or it would have...if Midou-kun wasn't presently ruining the effect by bursting into raucous laughter...

"No way! Oh my God, this is really his, isn't it?"

Akabane watches him double over, laughing so hard he's turning bright red in the face. He's pleased that Midou-kun seems to be enjoying his gift, but somewhat puzzled as to what's so funny about it. Perhaps there really is no accounting for taste.

"Oh man, when Ginji gets back won't he be surprised...!"

"Fudou-san certainly was."

Still laughing, Midou-kun comes over to Akabane and puts an arm around his shoulders. Together they lean over the box and stare down at the carefully-preserved bloody limb, still clothed in its white glove and part of a dark grey coat sleeve: a souvenir from Akabane's latest battle, perfectly arranged and packed in ice, sealed in a plastic bag so as not to spoil too soon. Somewhere, Babylon City's architects are probably rubbing their hands together in twisted glee at the prospect of being able to furnish the arm's former owner with a matching cybernetic set now.

Midou-kun's laughter finally slows, and then ceases. He shakes his head, still looking at Fudou's arm. "Jackal, Jackal, what the hell am I gonna do with you. I should kick your ass, but I gotta admit...there's a certain poetic justice here." He lets out another snort of laughter. "I'd have paid ten times my tab at Paul's to see the look on that bastard's face when you did this."

Akabane's eyes twinkle mischievously. "If memory serves me correctly it was a look akin to the kind you give Ginji-kun whenever he steals the last piece of pie."

"You do realize that he's gonna be after _both_ our asses now."

There's a quiet clicking sound. Akabane lets a sly smile slither across his face as he wiggles a pair of scalpels in his fingers. "Why do you think I like to choose presents that continually appreciate in value?"

"You're crazy, getting off on fighting Fudou, of all people. The guy is certified batshit insane." Midou-kun starts snickering again. "You didn't even leave him anything to mummify this time around. He's gonna be so pissed..."

That, Akabane didn't know about. He wrinkles his nose delicately at the thought of someone toting around decayed remains. How unsightly. "You do like it, don't you?" He hopes so. After all, it's not as if he can exactly return it for an exchange...

Midou-kun looks at the arm, then at him. His eyes are mostly unreadable, but there is a hint of mirth in them that lets Akabane know he understands the spirit in which it was meant, and that all is forgiven.

"Yeah...I guess so."

He laughs again, and this time Akabane laughs with him. The scenario didn't quite turn out the way he'd intended, but considering the results it can reasonably be called a success. "I should have that sonofabitch framed," Midou-kun says, pointing again at the severed arm. "That deserves to go up on my wall, oh yeah." He quickly shoots Akabane a stern look. "Don't take that literally, okay?"

"Of course not," Akabane says reassuringly. It is after all Midou-kun's to do with as he pleases.

"I feel a nic-fit coming on," Midou-kun says, tugging a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his shirt. "Be back in a few." He pauses, then reaches out and squeezes Akabane's shoulder. "Thanks, Jackal. I know I'm gonna regret this later, but what the hell. You made my day."

Feeling an absurd swell of pride in his breast at his lover's praise Akabane watches him exit the room for a smoke. When he is alone he looks down at Fudou's arm and says, "No frames, hmm? I suppose I'll have to come up with another surprise for his birthday then...I wonder how attached Shido-san is to his wolf-form's tail..."


	6. It's A Wonderful Life

Title: It's A Wonderful Life

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #5 – "ano sa/hey, you know…"

Rating: PG-13 (mostly for swearing and innuendo)

Warnings/Spoilers: None

Notes: 5 drabbles, word count varies from 100 – 300 apiece

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

Summary: Slices of everyday life.

--

I. Habit-Forming (100 words)

Akabane sighed as he emptied the overflowing ashtray. Fourth time today he'd had to do it. "This is becoming tiresome, Midou-kun. When are you going to find a new habit?"

His lover glared unrepentantly at him, a freshly-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. "When you stop shish-ke-bobbing your opponents."

Ouch. "You know, smoking is hazardous to your health," Akabane pointed out.

"And harassing me about my smoking is hazardous to yours," Ban replied. "So let's drop it and find something else to discuss."

"Such as?"

Ban dragged Akabane down to the couch for a kiss. "This."

"…I like this discussion…"

--

II. Driven To Distraction (100 words)

"You seem rather pleased with yourself," Akabane observed while Ban let the car coast to a stop.

Ban smirked. "Ginji and I got paid today."

"Ahh. You know, this isn't an ideal place to park," Akabane said, noting the striped markers indicating a towing zone.

"Nobody'll bother us, it's lunch hour." Ban leered. "I prefer having dessert first though."

He reached underneath the passenger seat and the next thing Akabane knew he was on his back, looking into devilish blue eyes. "…Midou-kun?"

"Reclining seats."

Akabane smiled into their kiss. "How…interesting…"

They did get ticketed, but for once Ban didn't care.

--

III. Putting The Brakes On (300 words)

"OW! QUIT IT!"

"I'm sorry, Midou-kun, but a mere kiss isn't going to make it better. It needs cleaning."

"You know, for a doctor, your bedside manner sucks. Most patients get painkillers first. Quit laughing, Himiko!"

"I warned you about challenging Maguruma to a drag race, but nooooo, the invincible Ban-Midou-sama always knows best. Now hold still so I can finish."

"I could'a taken that guy, if it hadn't been for that black ice…HOLY FUCK THAT HURTS! Put any more of that shit on my knee and I swear I'll – "

"Shut up, Ban. Akabane's right, you should've known better, challenging somebody whose professional alias is 'Mr. No-Brakes.'"

"How's that Wonderbra working out, Himiko? If we could just do something about your mouth – "

"- Exactly when is the Ladybug due back from the body shop again?"

"Why don't you – "

"Both of you, please. Midou-kun, for the last time, will you _please_ hold still?"

"Fuck you, Akabane!"

"You already did, twice this morning. Now _hold still!_"

"I would if you'd quit torturing me with that goddamn rubbing alcohol!"

"It's all I could find on short notice! You're lucky you were able to jump out of the car before it went over that cliff, you idiot – "

"Oh, that is it! You're impossible to work with like this, Midou-kun."

"So sue me – hey, what the hell d'ya think you're gonna do with those!"

"You brought this on yourself, Midou-kun."

"WHAT THE – GET THESE FUCKING SCALPELS OUTTA MY CLOTHES RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, JACKAL!"

"That should temporarily hold you. I think. Himiko-san, you wouldn't happen to have any sleep perfume on hand, perchance?"

"DON'T EVEN – "

"Actually, I do."

"Thank you. Stop fussing, Midou-kun. This won't hurt a bit. Breathe deeply…"

"…You. Both. Dead. When…I…wa…wake…!"

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it Ban?"

--

IV. Coffee Break (200 words)

Ban smooched the note Paul had left. _Back in ten minutes. _Perfect. No one else was in the place. He headed for the back room where he knew the stocks were kept. It'd been a while since his last raid…

"Hello, Midou-kun."

Ban let go of the sandwich he'd been about to swipe and turned around. "You know, sneaking up on people is rude."

"Work took less time than expected. I thought I might drop by and surprise you."

Ban raised a brow at Akabane's coy smile. "I know that look. What're you plotting this time?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

Ban rolled his eyes. He started to turn and get his sandwich when the sounds of a trenchcoat unwrapping and slipping to the floor drew his attention. He stared.

Except for his hat, gloves and boots, his lover was completely naked underneath the coat.

Ban thought it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. "Are you absofuckinglutely out of your mind!" he hissed. "What if Paul comes back here and sees us!"

Slender hips swayed invitingly as the jackal approached. "Then we'll have to be quick, won't we?"

It was the best coffee break Ban could ever remember having.

--

V. Undercover Blues (100 words)

Ban couldn't stand it any longer. Great kisser or not, there were certain bad habits he couldn't overlook in his lover.

He held his breath, carefully leaning over his side of the bed, one hand poised to grab the prize. _Almost got it –_

Clear as day that pleasant voice said, "I suggest not doing that, Midou-kun, if you value all five of your fingers."

Dammit! Ban clenched his fists and ground his teeth as he flopped back on the mattress.

_You know, one of these days I really gotta figure out a way of breaking Akabane of his covers-stealing habit…!_


	7. Rainbow

Title: Rainbow

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #15 – "perfect blue"

Rating: PG-13 (swearing, innuendo)

Warnings/Spoilers: A continuation of the previous AU/theme (#12, "good mood") in which it suits my purposes to have Fudou around. The poor (not) bastard, bwaahahaha. :D

Notes: Part of the series for 30kisses.

Disclaimer: The GBers ain't mine.

Summary: Fudou hates Teh Shiny, especially when he sees it up on Ban's and Akabane's wall...!

--

Takuma Fudou tended to view life in one of several colors. His favorite color was red, of course – there was nothing quite as satisfying as seeing the blood of an enemy splashed around like a waterfall. The shade of red he found himself usually fixated on involved an all-consuming rabid rage at being thwarted in his desires for yet another time.

Sadly for him, he rarely got to see much red these days. At least the kind he wanted to see. The color he hated most was usually the one he saw more often than not.

Fudou hated, loathed, despised, abhorred, and really disliked the color blue. Not just any blue, either. If he had been able to, any and all mentions of, references to, shades and hints of a perfect sapphire blue would be forever erased from his existence. Sapphire blue brought to mind things and people that drove him into mouth-frothing fits of madness.

Sapphire blue made him think of Ban Midou. And by extension, his live-in boyfriend, who had just recently added insult to injury by depriving Fudou of his other arm.

That one boggled him. Fudou could respect Dr. Jackal in a way because the two of them were guided by blood-sense, an overwhelming lust to devour their respective enemies. In retrospect he supposed it hadn't been the greatest idea, challenging the pretty transporter to a fight, but Dr. Jackal had instigated it with that not-so-innocent remark about passing on Fudou's greetings to his lover - who just so happened to be the very man Fudou most wanted to see dead. Why the two of them had decided to shack up together was a mystery for the ages; according to Fudou's source Jackal had been just as keen on fighting Midou as Fudou was.

Then again, his source wasn't exactly the most trustworthy around. White was another color he couldn't stand and that mirror-freak drenched himself in it as liberally as Fudou had marinated his mummified arm in natron. Fudou mentally added Kyouji Kagami to his list of People To Kill Someday.

Kagami had been right about one thing though. Midou had set himself up like a prince in this apartment. It wasn't necessarily all-out luxury, but it was close enough despite its relatively small space. Fudou wondered how he was able to pay for everything on a retriever's salary, and then realized: of course Midou wouldn't cough up a dime, as cheap a bastard as he was. This had to have all come from Dr. Jackal.

Pondering which spot in the apartment would make the best hiding place to leap from and attack when the lovebirds returned, Fudou moved on. Finding the location of the building had been a cinch thanks to Kagami's information – which Fudou had paid dearly for – and picking the lock had been even easier. His thievery skills hadn't rusted any since his days as a small-time hoodlum.

He cased the rooms, noting with varying shades of amusement or disgust the colors used in the décor. Most of this had to have been Midou's doing, he decided as he looked upon the warm earthen tones of the furniture and walls. There was a definite blue theme running through some of the pictures that had been hung.

Fudou was eternally grateful that blood wasn't blue. Otherwise it would have taken all the fun out of killing the snake-eating scumbag.

The bedroom was done with a few red and black accents. More like Dr. Jackal, for sure. Fudou studiously avoided all but the briefest of glances at the large four-poster in the center of the room. He refused to give his brain any further nightmares by allowing it to contemplate anything Midou and Jackal might do on that bed. Not that Jackal's kinks would've bothered him all that much; those scalpels had to be good for something besides self-defense. It was the thought of Midou getting busy that made him positively green with illness.

He wondered what he ought to do with Dr. Jackal, after he'd finished with Midou. There would have to be some kind of punishment rendered for the loss of his other arm. The second cybernetic addition hadn't come cheap, and for some reason it was twice as twitchy and spastic as his first. Against his better judgment Fudou found himself idly wondering what Dr. Jackal was like in bed. Maybe after pounding the crap out of him with some Second Sight tricks he ought to throw a fuck into that skinny transporter's ass for good measure, show him what a real man was like. It wasn't as if Jackal was unattractive...

Tabling that idea for later, Fudou left the bedroom and headed for what appeared to be an office area. It was disappointingly plain, cream walls with only a desk and some computer equipment. Well, when one was either a snot-nosed retriever or an icy transporter, he guessed one didn't really need much by way of office supplies...

Fudou turned around. He had just decided to try looking in the guest room when a glint of grey caught his eye on the opposite wall. He looked up, next to the door he'd come through, and his vision instantly fogged over to twelve dozen spectrums of red, none of them pleasant.

Son

Of

A

BITCH.

They'd gone and framed it. They FRAMED his arm – coat sleeve, glove and all – into a piece of art decor and stuck it up over their mantle like it was some sort of hunting trophy.

It took a full five minutes of cybernetic seizing before Fudou could even begin to process thought and when he did the only thing that came out of his mouth was an incoherent frothy mixture of curse words and strangled howls. Oh, they would PAY for this! They BOTH would die! How DARE they hack off his body parts and treat them like exhibits at a damned museum?

So absorbed in his fury was Fudou that he didn't register at first the sounds of a key being turned in a lock and the door to the apartment opening. As soon as he heard voices he spun and stormed into the main room, intent on painting the entire place scarlet with his prey's bloodstains.

The transporter was the first to spot Hurricane Fudou barreling towards them. "Oh, look, Midou-kun. We have company!" Dr. Jackal said with a little smile, clapping his hands together as if this was some kind of delight to be enjoyed.

Midou was smart enough to know better. "Shit! I knew something was screwy with the lock when I opened it."

Fudou flew at him first, claws shooting out of both cybernetic hands. "I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU BASTARDS!"

"I take it you've seen my art collection," Midou said dryly, sidestepping the attack and jumping out of immediate reach.

Fudou whirled, regrouping his charge. "How...DARE...you...!" he heaved, breath snorting from his flared nostrils like a bull blinded by the taunt of a matador's cape. The red he was currently seeing was starting to bleed over into spots of purple, so enraged was he by his foe's insolence. "Bad enough you rob my other arm from me – _now you mock me by displaying it on your wall for the whole world to see!"_

Midou held up a hand. "Hey, that wasn't my idea," he lied, his characteristic infuriating smirk beginning to creep around the edges of his lips. "Talk to the jackal. It's your own fault anyway for thinking you could beat a guy who walks around carrying a shitload of knives inside him. Haven't you ever played Rock-Paper-Scissors, or were you the type of kid who got his jollies from pulling the wings off flies?"

Fudou's jaw worked furiously with a reply. "I'm gonna smash the two of you into a bloody pulp! DIE!"

He rushed Midou but instead of his fist connecting with flesh a foot shot out and tripped him, sending his jaw slamming into a tiled floor. His world exploded into yellow stars as an amused voice came from above. "I don't think so. You, Fudou, are one of life's Papers. Your only purpose for existing is to get your weasel-ass kicked by Scissors like us."

Fudou's sight cleared enough for him to look up and see Midou making little snake-bite motions at him with his right hand. He bared his teeth and picked himself up.

Dr. Jackal chuckled as he neatly brushed past them then. "I'll get some refreshments while you two have your little chat."

Fudou turned on him. "You! You're getting it next! After I'm done with Midou here – "

Jackal paused, a quiet look of mild surprise coloring his refined features. He didn't appear concerned with the fact that both of Fudou's false hands were attempting – and failing, in their frantic spasms – to choke him senseless. "Why, Fudou-san, you seem to be under the mistaken impression that Midou-kun is the one entirely responsible for your troubles. But that's simply not true. He wasn't the one who thought of the idea to remove your other arm."

Fudou glared black death at him. "Oh?"

Jackal smiled sweet amethyst poison at him. "Of course not. It was my idea."

Fudou's seizures stopped and his fingers snapped shut – over air. Dr. Jackal had exited like a ghost on a breeze.

Fudou decided that screwing was definitely in order once he was done pounding Midou to slush. Anybody that cheerfully impertinent deserved to have his scrawny pale ass blistered pink.

The primary would-be victim was looking like he was trying to keep from laughing. "Never a dull moment around here, is there?"

"You bastard," Fudou spat. "You _two_ bastards! You think you can get away with this? I'll have the both of you begging for sweet mercy by the time I'm halfway through with you!"

He took a step towards Midou, fingers twitching a jig on both hands now. "Know what I'm gonna do to you?"

Midou made a show of yawning. "I'm pretty sure I've got it all down by now, but go ahead and run through the list again so's I can be sure I remember it all."

Fudou chose to ignore the sarcasm. He took another step, plotting how best to corner and torture his prey. "I'm gonna start by cutting out that smart-mouthed snake's tongue of yours and eating it in front of your face! Then I'm gonna smash both your kneecaps so you can't run anywhere!"

"At which point you'll commence with the hammering in of every bone in my body," Midou said in a bored tone. "Yeah, yeah. Get to the good stuff."

"I'm gonna rip open your guts and pull out each and every one of your organs and make you die slowly choking on them! And then I'll carve up your face so you'll get a taste of what you'll look like when you wind up in Hell!"

"Don't forget the eyes. You're gonna cut out both my eyes so I can't Jagan anybody in Hell and instead have to suffer their eternal tortures. You always were sloppy on the details, Fudou. It's why you sucked so bad as a thief."

"Bastard! I'll tear off both YOUR arms and see how much YOU like it! And then you know what I'm gonna do to your pretty boyfriend there?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll think of something suitably stupid." Midou rolled his eyes. "Just whatever you do, don't bore him. He hates being bored."

Fudou's malicious grin transformed his face into a visage of dementia. "Oh, he won't be bored, I assure you Midou. I'm gonna fuck that pretty ass of his raw while you watch. And I'll make him enjoy every bit of it too. Akabane Kuroudo will be begging me to finish splitting him in half by the time I'm through, and then, and ONLY then, will I put my fist right through your chest and squeeze your black heart to mincemeat so you DIE!" Fudou roared with laughter at his boast.

A polite voice interrupted from behind them. "Would anyone care for a drink?"

Fudou turned and stared. Dr. Jackal was smiling at them and carrying a tray of water glasses. He walked over to a coffee table and set the tray on top of it, gesturing with one white-gloved hand. "You're welcome to one if you like. Do go on, I believe you were mentioning something about squeezing Midou-kun's heart into mincemeat?"

"You miserable freak." Fudou's lip curled with disgust. "Does he stick it to you that good, huh?"

Akabane raised a delicate brow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Fudou here says he's gonna fuck your pretty ass raw while I watch," Midou said with a snort of laughter. "He says you're gonna enjoy it, too."

"Is that so. How interesting."

"You'll have to wait your turn though. First he's gonna cut out my smart-mouthed snake's tongue and eat it in front of my face. Then he's gonna smash my kneecaps so I can't run off, at which point he'll commence with the hammering in of every bone in my body. After that he'll rip open my guts and pull out all my organs and make me die slowly choking on them. Then he'll carve up my face so I'll presumably get a taste of what I'm supposed to look like when I wind up in Hell. The finishing touches will be when he cuts out both my eyes so I can't Jagan anybody there and instead have to suffer their eternal tortures. Oh, and he also plans to tear off both my arms to see how much I like it." Midou flashed a smug shit-eating grin at Fudou. "Did I leave anything out?"

Akabane smiled. "My, my. That sounds like a very extensive list."

"Nah. I'm betting only about half that'll actually get done. He was a shitty thief, it stands to reason he'll be a shitty torturer-murderer. I used to work with the jackoff so I oughta know from watching him in action enough times."

Fudou couldn't believe it. These two psychotics were about to face hellish torture and death at his hands, and they were JOKING about it? They really were a pair of madmen fit for each other.

Dr. Jackal gave a light laugh and moved to stand beside Midou as he addressed Fudou with a sly look. "Well now, I'm certainly open to experimentation as far as voyeurism is concerned, but I doubt that you can even begin to compensate as a substitute, Fudou-san." He lightly nuzzled his boyfriend's ear, all the while smirking at Fudou as he purred, "Midou-kun is a _thoroughly_ satisfying lover." Devilish purple eyes sparkled with evil mirth. "And you do know what they say about the size of a man's...knives and their performance thereof," he said with a chuckle, nodding towards Fudou's huge cybernetic claws.

Midou snickered loudly and in that moment Fudou discovered it was possible for white to both encapsulate all colors of the rainbow and yet remain its blinding purity. His vision actually went grey for a second as he fought to process this insufferable humiliation in terms he could deal with: namely a single thought that screamed _KILL!_

"You okay there, Fudou? You look like you're gonna burst a vein in your head or something. You oughta relax, pop some happy pills or take a vacation or something."

"Midou-kun is right," Dr. Jackal nodded sagely. "Stress is extremely detrimental to the body's condition."

"I'LL SHOW _YOU_ A DETRIMENTAL CONDITION!" Fudou roared, charging them. "IT'S CALLED DYING A BLOODY DEATH BY TAKUMA FUDOU! RAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"

He swung at Midou since he was the closer of the two, but the bastard scooted beyond his reach. Dr. Jackal wasn't cowed by the sight of giant claws slashing his way so Fudou went after him next. At this point he didn't really care who he hit first, Midou or Jackal, just as long as the two of them were both lying at his feet in bloody little pieces by the time he left this den of insanity.

His fantasies of beautiful red were not to be, however. Dr. Jackal neatly darted away from Fudou's attack and countered with a blow that forced him to skid to a sudden stop, heaving from the force delivered to his gut.

"Now really, Fudou-san. That was just rude." Dr. Jackal's face creased into a petite frown. "It's not very nice to attack one's hosts after they have just offered you their hospitality." He smiled suddenly. "Even if you are rather amusing to battle. But such activities are better saved for a certain time and a certain place. No?"

"DIE, PSYCHO HAT-FREAK!"

Akabane sighed. He turned slightly towards Midou and said patiently, "I do hope you won't follow my bad example in dealing with rude guests, Midou-kun. But I think Fudou-san poses a unique case in this instance."

Fudou's free hand shot out and seized the transporter by his throat. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Midou answered with a hint of his ever-present sneer as he started to light up one of his cigarettes. "It means you just screwed yourself out of a dinner invitation, Fudou."

He bared his fangs at his enemy. "A shame, I'm sure!"

"Yeah it is, actually. Akabane here gives great dish."

"Why thank you, Midou-kun," Jackal cooed.

Fudou shook him roughly. "Save it for when you're both dead and rotting in a festering heap! NOW DIE!"

Dr. Jackal merely smiled up at him. Then Fudou felt the sharp sting of something jabbing his thigh. He looked down and saw a scalpel sticking out of it. He raised his face to Akabane's and the snarl abruptly died in his throat when he saw the frigid expression in those purple eyes.

"You first, Fudou-san. I insist."

Even while he found himself being turned into a giant magenta bruise Fudou made a mental note to ask Kagami just how the hell was it a scrawny little transporter half his size could be capable of such unbelievable power. But for now it was all he could do to endure Dr. Jackal's annoyingly genteel voice as the bastard lectured him in between blows. "Fudou-san, you are positively in dire need of a refresher course in manners. Allow me to kindly refresh your memory."

Fudou found himself facedown on the rug, blinking in shock. Some part of his brain noted that it was some vomitrocious cream color. It would've looked a lot better saturated with his enemies' blood, he thought wistfully.

"First of all you ought to have called ahead first instead of dropping in unannounced." _Wham!_ There went his left knee. Fudou howled and struggled to his feet to take a swing at the transporter.

"Then you immediately demand a fight with Midou-kun and myself when we haven't even had a chance to settle ourselves. Why, we'd just barely set foot through the door." _Wham! Wham! _And Fudou, whose swipe had missed badly, was suddenly missing half of his coat and a good deal of skin from his shoulder with it.

"You haven't even the decency to accept our offering of drink while you're here. And you're getting your blood all over the good rug. Normally I'd be inclined to overlook that, but Midou-kun has informed me that you leave the nastiest stains when you bleed. I'd prefer none of them contaminate our dwelling as Ginji-kun is quite sensitive to the presence of certain substances. And good dry-cleaning is so hard to find these days, you know."

A black-booted foot made its presence known in the vicinity of his groin and Fudou discovered a new dimension of painful meaning to the phrase 'blue balls.'

"On top of all that you have the utter nerve to come calling whilst reeking of that foul diamond dust. No, don't bother to deny it," Dr. Jackal said in a persnickety tone. "I smelled it as soon as I walked inside. You've been hanging around some rather disreputable company, haven't you?"

Midou's voice chimed in. "I told you. Sloppy detail work."

"Well, there's no excuse for it," Dr. Jackal said haughtily over Fudou's groans.

He bent down and pulled the brute to his feet by his ponytail. "Now, then. Midou-kun will show you to the door – " Dr. Jackal's grip was at least as strong as Midou's, much to Fudou's dismay as he was helplessly towed forward – "and may I recommend that in the future, Fudou-san, you practice a little more decorum when you choose to visit next time."

Akabane paused, the little furrow on his brow making him seem rather put-out for a moment. "Oh, and one more thing. You may tell Kagami-kun that if he _ever _sends another of his lapdogs stinking of that repulsive dust of his into my home he'll need to see a proctologist to have those mirrors of his removed from a very uncomfortable place." He smiled almost shyly at Midou then. "Please do forgive my vulgarity, Midou-kun. But there are some things I simply won't tolerate."

Midou snorted and grabbed Fudou's hair from him. "You said it a helluva lot nicer than I would've. Come on, Fudou, before you barf up a lung there and kill my appetite."

Pain was radiating from every pore on his body and so Fudou had little choice but to stumble-crawl behind Midou, the retriever giving his hair a sharp yank whenever the big man faltered. He wasn't content to just kick the ex-thief out the door; he had to literally drag him through the hall and down the stairs. Reason number two hundred and seven why Fudou devoted so much time to thinking about killing Midou – the man loved to humiliate his opponents.

And he wasn't through yet. Waiting outside in the street was the final insult: a large, muddy brown puddle of water. "Here. Clean yourself up a bit so people don't stare." And with that, Midou dropped him face-first into it before turning and walking back into the building. "Don't forget to say hello to Twinkletoes for me and the jackal."

"You BASTARD!" A spluttering Fudou struggled to his feet. "GET BACK HERE SO I CAN KILL YOU!"

Midou stopped and looked at him over his glasses. "You just got whacked with a clue-by-four and you still don't know when to quit? Trust me, Fudou, you don't wanna see Akabane get pissed off. So unless you wanna get even more cybernetic bugfuck crazy than you already are I suggest you beat it back to whatever toilet you crawled out of."

He paused, then took out his cell phone and aimed it at the speechless hulk. There was a sibilant click and Midou turned the phone around so Fudou could see what was on its display.

"For my art collection. That arm looks kinda lonely up there on the wall, y'know?"

How Fudou hated it. How he would have given the shriveled entity that barely passed for his soul a thousand, nay, a _million_ times over...if only he could somehow crush Midou's insufferably smug arrogance into dust, and with it, that brilliantly fanged smile of sickeningly perfect blue which was forever the bane of his existence.

"_MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!"_

--

_Omake/Epilogue: All's Well That Ends Well...?_

"Well, that takes care of the trash removal. What's for dinner?"

"You could help me with cleaning this rug, and then I could get to preparing it that much faster..."

"Suggestion duly noted and ignored. Cleaning is to me what being bored is to you. Throw the thing out and we'll just buy a new one."

"Hmph. You are hopelessly lax when it comes to housekeeping, Midou-kun."

"Guilty as charged. Besides, I'll have to be reminded of that big blowhard every time I look at that thing."

"I wonder...perhaps Clayman-san might like it as a potential exhibit for her gallery? It does have a rather unique pattern to those bloodstains, if you'd noticed..."

"Oh God, wouldn't that blow wind up the art world's skirts! 'This is the famous rug that known psychopath Takuma Fudou bled like a stuck pig all over.' Are you kidding me? No one in their right mind would pay to see that."

"Mmm...you'd be surprised. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as they say. You and Ginji-kun could make quite a bit of money from showing it at art dealerships. Perhaps you'd even become famous for its discovery."

"Heeeeey...now that's the best idea I've had all week! Leave off scrubbing that sucker, Jackal."

"At least Fudou-san hasn't left diamond dust all over the apartment while he was here. It would have been most inconvenient to have it fumigated."

"Tell me about it. At the rate he's rising on my shit list he's lucky I don't take that arm of his and parade downtown waving it around in front of the lunch crowds. Oh, speaking of that masterpiece, check this out. I just snapped it."

"How perfectly vile. I'd have cut a J into him if it wasn't such a wasted effort."

"Trust me, it would've been. Although...now that I think of it...he did give me an interesting inspiration..."

"Oh?"

"You're open to trying new things, right? What say after we eat us exhibitionists go traumatize our nosy neighbors across the street with a little experimentation in voyeurism like our pal Fudou suggested, eh?"


	8. Wake Me When It's Over

Title: Wake Me When It's Over

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #3 – "jolt!"

Rating: PG-13 (swearing, implied m/m relationship)

Warnings/Spoilers: I make vague stuff up about Akabane's and Ban's pasts.

Notes: Many thanks to Lady Bast for beta help:)

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

Summary: Ban's good intentions go horribly awry.

--

Only once had Ban ever killed with his Jagan, and it was not the effect he'd intended when he used the Evil Eye. He'd vowed never to do so again, that he would sooner tear out his victim's throat with a well-placed Snakebite before he'd let someone suffer through a fatal shock induced by hallucination. That kind of hell he couldn't fathom putting another person through.

And now he'd gone and done it to Jackal.

"Come on, damn you, breathe!" He bent over a silent Akabane, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. The jackal's skin was growing cooler to the touch, alarming Ban. _How could I have been so stupid!_ he berated himself.

But how was he to know?

But he should have known, should've remembered that hallucinations fabricated by the Eye were not just dreams; they were memories woven with reality into a seamless dimension that may as well have been reality for the person afflicted. And if those memories were particularly vivid, possessed enough power behind them...

"Come on, Jackal. You gotta come back to me. I know you can do it," Ban muttered, brushing back wisps of dark hair from Akabane's pale face. Eyes the shade of deep lilac stared mutely into a void only he could see, unable to acknowledge Ban's efforts.

It was unthinkable...after all he'd been through and all that he faced on a regular basis...the Jackal couldn't die from a simple Jagan.

Could he?

--

It was very late when Ban got back to their apartment. He hadn't meant to stay out, but the party Ginji was throwing for Shido and Madoka had wound up lasting well into the wee hours of the night. He'd stayed because Madoka had asked him to play several songs with her, and it had been such fun being able to break out his violin skills, so seldom did he have any opportunity to use them.

Ban saw the hat and coat draped on their respective wall pegs. Evidently Akabane hadn't had to work today, or else he'd come home early. Since no sound of activity was present Ban assumed he'd gone to sleep. His assumption was proven right when he entered the bedroom and found Akabane dressed in a black silk pajama set, curled up under the covers, out like a light.

In spite of himself Ban smiled. Once again the jackal was hogging all the blankets. _I must be getting soft, letting him get to me like this,_ he chided himself, reaching down a hand to smooth back a few locks of black hair from his lover's face. He liked the jackal best in moments like this one, when Akabane was peaceful and so...human. Normal. He stroked callused knuckles over the soft skin of a cheekbone. Jackal must be growing on him for Ban to start finding pleasure in his company like this, he decided.

The touch stirred Akabane and Ban found himself looking into a pair of sleepy violet eyes. "Sorry," Ban offered. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"Mm." Akabane blinked, yawning and settling back into the pillows. "Did you have a nice time tonight?"

"Yeah, it was pretty good. More fun than I expected even with the monkey king around, actually," Ban admitted.

"That's good." Akabane stretched, catlike, as long legs unfolded from a fetal position and slender arms reached out towards Ban, fingers spreading wide like claws. He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes, drawing the sheets closer around him. "Coming to bed now, Midou-kun?"

"In a minute. I want to brush my teeth. There better be some blanket left for me by the time I get back," he added in a tone a step below threatening. In answer a quiet laugh drifted from the bed.

In the bathroom Ban regarded his own reflection thoughtfully, watching his mirror self scrub the toothbrush over his teeth. It seemed they'd settled into a sort of domestic-type routine that, while unfamiliar and unconventional to say the least, wasn't altogether unpleasant. Ban found himself admitting there were times when he genuinely enjoyed Akabane's company – the man was smart, could hold a stimulating conversation, was adept at handling the social graces (something which Ban held little patience for even at the best of times), hell, he could even cook worth a damn. And the sex was fanfuckingtastic, even if it did turn a little rougher than he'd prefer sometimes.

He made a face at himself in the mirror. _God, I'm turning into some kind of freak if I'm thinking happy thoughts about Jackal, _he thought wryly. Then again, he mused, things had been rather...settled...lately. It was both a welcome relief from and an edgy anticipation of certain habits. Ban knew the dry spell could only last so long.

Still, Jackal had behaved himself of late, restricting his less-than-appealing activities within the boundaries Ban had set, and for the most part had been faithful to the rules they'd tacitly agreed upon. Perhaps some sort of reward was in order. Ban spat out the wad of toothpaste he'd been nursing and rinsed his mouth with water, running his brush under the faucet while he contemplated what he could give Akabane. The jackal held little value for material objects. He would appreciate them, admire and enjoy them or the physical comforts they provided, but given a choice between experiencing a new thrill and receiving an expensive gift he'd pick the experience every time. In this he was not merely driven but obsessed, Ban recognized, but with careful maintenance even obsessions could be properly corralled.

A thought suddenly occurred to him: the Jagan. He could put Akabane in a trance and show him something pleasant.

Ban pondered this. What sort of a dream could he give Jackal? He thought about showing him a glimpse of a fight between them but quickly dismissed that idea. Wouldn't do to rouse any predatorial impulses; those would reveal themselves soon enough on their own without any help from him. No? What else...what else...

He wandered back into the bedroom. Akabane had risen from the bed and was uncapping a bottle of water he'd retrieved from the kitchen. Head tilted back he sipped at it slowly and Ban's eyes were drawn to that sleek column of throat. The phrase _poetry in motion_ sprang to his mind as he watched his lover's fluid movements, each one cool and precise. Even in domesticity the jackal possessed an uncommon grace.

"Hey. I have something for you."

Akabane finished drinking and recapped the bottle, which he set on a coaster on top of the dresser. He padded noiselessly on bare feet over to Ban. "Oh?"

Ban cupped his jaw with one hand, his other slipping around Akabane's waist to pull him in close. He dropped a kiss on his lips and pulled back just a bit to look into his eyes.

"Hold still for me."

Akabane really did have beautiful eyes, Ban thought, tugging his glasses down the bridge of his nose. The exact shade varied according to his mood; they could flicker anywhere from a relaxed amethyst to an icy purplish-grey to a vivid rose-purple. Right now they were a luminous shade of violet that was still warm with slight drowsiness. They were framed by long dark lashes that dusted pale skin, making them even more exotic in appearance. Ban wondered if perhaps the jackal's parents hadn't had a few drops of foreign blood in their lineage somewhere for their son to be as preternaturally striking as he was. Had he even had proper parents, having come from a reclusive bubble like Babylon City? He didn't seem like the type to have spent his whole life reared in captivity. On a hunch Ban incorporated his ideas into the trance he was swiftly spinning.

The Jagan began to take effect; he could feel it spiraling out from his mind, see it forming in his mind's eye and joining with Akabane's. He watched the purple eyes dilate, felt the other's body relax into the vision, saw the dream billowing out into full living color and scent and sound as his spell became real –

- and then Akabane's eyes flew wide open and he gave a little choked gasp and his body went rigid like stone. He collapsed to the floor in a flurry of black hair and pajamas and lay still.

"What the hell?" Ban blinked, reorienting himself as he stared down at the jackal's limp form. The Jagan wasn't supposed to do _that_...!

"Jackal? Hey, Jackal."

Akabane didn't move, didn't speak.

"Akabane, you all right?"

Silence was his only answer. Unease rising in his chest, Ban knelt down and turned Akabane onto his back. He was stunned by what he found. The other man was motionless, body as yielding as a wet dishrag when Ban moved him. His eyes were locked in a faraway stare, facial features as frozen as the rest of him. But what worried Ban the most was the utter stillness, the silence:

Akabane wasn't breathing.

--

Ban put his fingers underneath the pale jaw once more, feeling for a pulse. Still nothing despite his efforts to rouse the limp form. He bent over and pressed his ear to the chest. No sound, no heartbeat. He checked for a pulse again. Not even a flutter.

"Oh my God. I killed him."

No, that was impossible, he quickly told himself. The Jagan he'd been making had been a pleasant vision, not a frightening one. So what the hell had just happened to cause this sort of a reaction?

More importantly – how could he fix it?

Ban fumbled in his pants pocket for his cell phone. He flicked the lid and punched in Ginji's number on speed dial.

"Ginji? Where are you? You still at Madoka's party?"

"Just left a little bit ago. What's wrong, Ban-chan?" Ginji asked, having immediately caught the urgency in his friend's voice.

"Get up here fast. Something's wrong with Akabane and I don't know what it is," Ban told him while he tried to see if he could wake the jackal from his catatonia by lightly slapping his face with his palm.

"I'm coming down your street now," Ginji promised before cutting the call.

Ban slapped the phone shut and tossed it aside. "Come on," he muttered, cupping Akabane's face in his hands and leaning over him. He searched blank purple eyes, trying to find some semblance of awareness in there. "Akabane. Akabane! It's me. It's Ban. It's Midou-kun. Talk to me, dammit!"

He may as well have been demanding a response from a corpse. _Three minutes, Midou, _his brain warned. _If you don't get him breathing within that frame that's exactly what you'll have on your hands._

Ban bent over the jackal's body once more. He counted off the time in his head as he started CPR, mindful of the force he was using as he bore down with both hands on the breastbone. Though it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway, given Jackal's physical shape – even as thin as he was the man seemed able to withstand damn near anything that was thrown at him.

_So why had a simple Jagan turned him into a vegetable! _

Ban was putting his mouth to Akabane's, blowing air into his lungs when he heard a door burst open and footsteps booming down the hall towards the bedroom. Ginji ran inside, flocking to Ban at first sight. "Ban-chan! What happened?"

"I don't know, I don't know. Shock, I think. I used a Jagan and the next thing I know he's flat on the floor like this." Ban paused in his efforts, raking a hand through his hair as he tried to think what to do next. Akabane's face was far paler than it normally was and his lips were starting to take on a bluish cast. "We only have a few minutes to get him breathing again or he's dead. Give me your hands."

Ginji obeyed, his eyes worriedly flicking from Ban to Akabane and back again. "You used the Jagan on him? Why? Were you fighting?"

Ban ripped Akabane's pajama top open, sending a few buttons popping and pinging onto both of them. "No, we weren't! I just wanted to give him a nice dream..." he trailed off helplessly for a second. He shook himself mentally, remembering the fast-dwindling time. "Here. Put your hands on his chest. There, like that. When I tell you to, shoot a charge into him."

"Got it." Ginji's brows scrunched in concentration as he prepared to summon his electrical power. "Ban-chan, will this work?"

"It better." Ban sat back on his haunches, giving Ginji room to work. "We've gotta get his heart beating and this is the only way I can think of. Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Do it."

Ginji's hands began to glow an eerie blue. Seconds later there was a snapping noise like wires crackling under stress, and an arc of pure white leapt from Ginji to Akabane. The electrical current caused the jackal's body to twitch reflexively but otherwise had no impact.

Ginji and Ban watched for any sign of reanimation, waiting with baited breaths. Had the shock treatment worked? Ban silently counted off the seconds as he put fingers to Akabane's pulse.

Nothing.

"Do it again," he told Ginji.

Another current flowed, another brief vigil held; still, the violet eyes did not blink, the pale lips remained slack. Ban checked his inner count and was horrified to realize how much time had slipped away between now and the moment he'd first realized something had gone wrong with the Jagan. "Again, Ginji!" he urged. And again, moments later, when the last one hadn't done the trick.

"Ban-chan, are you sure?"

"Just do it!"

"But too much could kill him!"

"He _will_ die if we can't revive him in time!" Ban snapped back. "Now shoot him another bolt!"

Ginji did as he was ordered, uttering a whimper of desperation as he loosed his power. The electricity sizzled in his forearms and streaked a path from his fingertips into Akabane.

"Damn you, Jackal!" Ban yelled. "It's just a stupid dream, _wake up_ already!"

He'd never had a Jagan that lasted beyond a minute, not once. He was an undisputed expert in using the eye-trance; he'd honed his skill through years and years of hard practice, under the vigilant guidance of his teachers. He knew how best to wield the visions that could bring either ecstatic pleasure or unbelievable pain. But never in all his life had he loused one up so badly that the end result was death. Until that one incident, years ago...he'd vowed never to let it happen again, as the guilt had eaten away like acid at him. Restricting his use of the trance wasn't just for his own safety; Ban was judicious about whom he applied it to and how, not wanting to risk another casualty – since the dawn of its inception the Evil Eye had earned its darker nickname only too well.

Some small part of him argued that Jackal might actually look favorably upon this, that his dearest wish would have been to perish at Ban's hand even though it hadn't happened as a result of a duel. Ban savagely shoved the thought away, cursing himself for even thinking it. Whatever else he was Akabane was still human, and the part of him that wasn't a cold-blooded transporter had somehow wormed his way into the corner of Ban's affections. More than that, he sensed on a fundamental level that allowing Jackal to die this way meant the darkness would have won, and Ban wasn't about to concede defeat on that score, not now, not ever.

"Do it one more time, Ginji!"

"Ban-chan, it's not working!"

"I said - " Ban stopped when he felt a hand on his forearm. Ginji was looking at him with bright brown eyes, the tears in them threatening to spill through the floodgates. Considering their history he had ample cause to fear and even loathe Jackal. But although the fear might nip him with its fangs he never allowed the venom of hatred to sink in, simply because Ginji Amano was not the type of person to hate. He _disliked, _very much, what the jackal did, but he did not hate the man – in fact, he was insanely quick to forgive if not forget, and in his own way he had come to care for Akabane too, just as he cared about everyone who entered his life for one reason or another.

"Ginji, I..." Ban trailed off, not knowing what to say now. What could he say? That because he'd screwed up here was another death to weigh heavily on both their consciences? Not that Ginji was guilty of anything other than an extremely soft heart, which was so far off the sin meter as to be nonexistent. But Ban knew that he would take the loss of Akabane just as hard as he'd taken past losses. It was just how Ginji was.

"Ginji," Ban tried again, an unidentifiable knot in his throat making it hard to speak. He opened his lips again, but the words wouldn't come.

"Ban-chan." Ginji looked at him then in a way that made Ban's heart ache as though it were split in two. People – hell, even himself - didn't give his partner enough credit for intelligence sometimes. This was one of those instances where Ginji's empathetic nature held an uncanny knack for tapping into someone's thoughts. In tender brown eyes, Ban could see his own fears reflected back at him. The difference was that this time they shared the load, and within this bond they both understood the implications of tonight's events.

What the jackal – Akabane – might have meant to each of them...

Drained by this insight and completely baffled as to what to do, Ban slumped on top of Akabane. He felt Ginji's hand gently card through his hair, and a stinging at the back of his eyes that wouldn't go away.

"Dammit," he whispered, clenching a hand in silky raven hair. _Oh hell. I'm sorry, Jackal. All I tried to do was give you one little nice dream, and I fucked it up. I'm so sorry...I fucked everything up, and all it took was just one minute..._

--

It was a wonder he didn't break the mirror from crashing into it, Ban thought with a shudder as he rubbed the sore bump on his forehead. _Goddamn, I haven't been this tired in ages. Knew I shouldn't have stayed out that late... _Of all the asinine things to do, zapping himself while thinking about someone else...!

That last bit disturbed him more than the fact that he'd been the recipient of his own spell, for reasons he wasn't sure he wanted to dwell on... Not like he'd never hypnotized himself with the Jagan before, but this had been one of the most intense dreams he'd ever been through in a long time. All just the same, he put a shaky hand out and felt Akabane's shoulder, touched his face, reassuring himself of his lover's solid presence. Warm skin, steady breath. Alive.

The other man looked up at the caress and smiled faintly. He was twisting the cap closed on an ice bag. "Try this. It will keep some of the swelling down."

"Thanks," Ban mumbled as he snatched up the offering and gingerly pressed it to his head. While holding the ice bag in one hand and his glasses in the other he wobble-walked back into the bedroom, taking slow steps in case his exhausted body decided to pass out along the way. "God, I can't believe I did that. I need sleep..." he muttered.

"Poor Midou-kun. What were you thinking, pulling a straight forty-eight hour assignment and then attending an all-night party? No wonder you're dead on your feet." Akabane hovered solicitously behind him, ready to lend assistance in case Ban lost his balance. "If I didn't know better I'd swear you were using a Jagan on yourself when I found you."

Ban sat on the edge of the bed, swaying woozily. "It was an accident," he mumbled before toppling over. The ice bag slipped from his hand and sagged onto the mattress.

Gentle hands took his glasses before they could be broken and laid them on the nightstand. They brushed back the hair from his face, helped him up fully onto the bed and began removing his shoes and clothes. "Deprivation effects trigger the power? Interesting. I didn't know you could do that...I do hope you saw something enjoyable at least."

"Not really," Ban yawned, eyes already closed.

"A pity. Well, perhaps when we have our next fight you can show me the good dream instead," Akabane said with a somewhat larger smile as he finished undressing Ban and tucked the covers in around him. "Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Images flashed through Ban's mind, a forced ending to a story he'd rather not have opened the page to. Had the dream lasted longer, would things have played out all right? He pictured it:

_a tiny cough tickling his ear, feeling the body beneath him twitch in a way that had nothing to do with electrical current. Ginji and him sharing an overwhelming wave of relief and – happiness? – at seeing Akabane move of his own volition. The jackal blinking, eyelids aflutter, and then suddenly his chest would heave and he'd suck down a couple of deep, shuddering breaths, Ginji's face shining with joy as he cried _we did it, Ban-chan, we did it! _and Ban not realizing he's whispering a prayer of thanks as he leans over Akabane, almost crushing him in a tight embrace, rubbing warmth back into the slender form which is still unsettlingly pale, and his eyes have a glassy, disoriented look to them, but he's alive._ Alive. _Ban stroking the soft dark hair, tracing his thumbs over the sides of Akabane's face and down his neck, mumbling _Jackal, don't you ever, ever do anything like this again, you hear me? _while he's pressing a kiss against the smooth forehead of his lover..._

And what if it hadn't turned out like that? What if he'd actually used the Jagan in real time and something like this had happened? He shuddered. Instinctively, he sensed in the back of his mind that the dream he'd had was a warning. Tampering with Jackal's memory...he didn't know why, but somehow he understood that this was forbidden. Doing so prematurely would only bring catastrophic results.

Akabane replaced the ice bag, positioning it carefully over Ban's blossoming bruise. "Midou-kun? Are you all right? You must have really hit your head on that mirror..."

The cold sting of the bag on his skin yanked him out of the jaws of sleep. Ban's eyes snapped open and he almost bolted up from the bed as he grabbed the other's wrist. "No, Jackal. Trust me. Fighting with the Jagan would _not_ be fun."


	9. Rearview Mirror

Title: Rearview Mirror

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #1 - "look over here"

Rating: PG

Warnings/Spoilers: None

Notes: A short n' sweet sequel to The Gift That Keeps On Giving and Rainbow - it's Ban's turn to give Akabane a goody. (Yes, I had way too much fun writing these. XD )

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

Summary: Shiny objects attract certain kinds of people…unluckily for Kagami.

--

It hung smugly from the rearview mirror of Maguruma's truck, dazzling in its luminescence whenever a streak of light - sun or artificial - brushed a bright kiss past its curves. He wasn't exactly thrilled with its presence, thinking that he'd sooner have a pair of fuzzy dice strung up there, but at least it was just for the one trip and given who'd put it up a potential argument and subsequent J-cutting wasn't worth the trouble.

Akabane noticed him staring at it. He reached over Maguruma's shoulder and lightly flicked it with his thumb and forefinger, causing it to sway with a pendulum's motion. "You are getting sleepy…very sleepy…soon you will be completely under my control…" he teased.

Maguruma just grunted. "Who's having us move this thing anyway?" Usually they didn't bother asking unnecessary questions about their cargo but this was a bizarre exception.

Himiko spoke up from the passenger seat. "Mr. Invincible Super-Snake, who else?" she muttered. "He'd better not stiff us on the delivery fee…" Her fingers absently caressed a small bottle of amber liquid, tucked safely in her armory belt.

Akabane chuckled. "It makes no difference to me. Already I can tell that this is going to be a most enjoyable assignment."

Himiko shot him a sour look. She hadn't yet made up her mind whether or not his attaching himself to Ban was an altogether good thing. Since they'd formed their relationship Jackal had cut back on the body count, which relieved her as she didn't care to see so much gore on the job. The downside was that he could be twice as insufferable to work with, and Himiko wouldn't have been surprised to learn that some of Ban's snarkiness was rubbing off on him. "Oh, really. What was your first clue, the cargo itself or that stupid note he sent with it?"

Purple eyes twinkled mischievously. "Now, Himiko-san. You know Midou-kun only has your best interests at heart. As do I," he said as his tone turned haughty. "You deserve a proper suitor, not some - " Akabane looked at Maguruma - "what was it that Midou-kun said?"

"Bar host," Maguruma said, not taking his eyes from the road he was navigating.

"Ah, yes. A proper gentleman caller, not some, and I quote, 'lame cheap-assed Rod Stewart wannabe bar host.' Mm?"

Face aflame with embarrassment, Himiko said through gritted teeth, "I don't need either of you telling me who I should or shouldn't date. Not that I ever had any intention of going out with Kagami," she said quickly upon noticing the slight downward quirk of Akabane's eyebrow beneath his hat. He was oddly…protective of her at times, she'd noticed, and it was starting to make her curious.

She took out the note that Ban had included with their transport item and unfolded it, reading it again:

_Jackal,_

_Hope you like your present. It's from both me and Ginji. Behave yourself at work tonight and I'll see you later. _

_X O X O X O X O, _

_The Great Invincible Ban Midou_

_P.S.: Tell Sparkles if I catch him hitting on Himiko again he'll be wearing his balls for earrings._

She sighed. It was nice, she supposed, to be cared for…even if one's guardians happened to be an arrogant ass and a bloodthirsty sociopath.

A muted chuckle made her look up. Akabane was watching her with an undisguised smirk. "What's so funny?"

"Don't you wonder what Kagami-kun's expression must have been when he discovered it was missing?"

In spite of herself Himiko let a small smile sneak past her thinned lips. "Knowing Ban he didn't just sneak up and swipe it while Kagami was sleeping, I'm sure."

Akabane laughed delightedly at that. "Yes, our dear Midou-kun can be quite imaginative, I've learned."

"Comes with the territory," Himiko said. "He's the one with the fantastic visions, after all - "

A muffled thump hit the roof of the truck.

"Aw, I just had Betty washed and waxed, too," Maguruma complained.

"Ah, that will be the recovery service. Arrived in a timely fashion as promised, I see. Excellent." Akabane grinned and filled his hands with scalpels as he saw the creeping reflection of a windswept blond mane and white suit in the rearview mirror. "Everyone should be so fortunate as to enjoy their work, don't you think?"


	10. One Morning

Title: One Morning

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #27 - "overflow"

Rating: R (adult content)

Warnings/Spoilers: One word: smut!

Notes: Yeah, y'all knew this was coming…in more ways than one… -snicker-

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

Summary: Ginji overhears noises while next door and goes to investigate…

--

Mornings for Ginji Amano are typically a non-event. He wakes up, has his breakfast if there's anything good in his pantry, watches a little television before going next door to poke his best friend Ban-chan awake if he's slept through his alarm - which is more often than not. Ginji secretly suspects that Ban-chan purposely foregoes setting the wakeup alarm but he doesn't mind. It just gives him an excuse to visit and raid his neighbors' kitchen for a midmorning snack. Both he and Ban-chan have put on a little bit of extra weight since Akabane-san moved in with Ban-chan. Among his formidable skills, the transporter is also an excellent cook.

Today starts off a bit differently. He's entering the other apartment as usual, courtesy of a key that Ban-chan gave him for this purpose. Then he doesn't have to bother getting out of bed to answer the door every time Ginji knocks on it. Ginji is usually greeted with the sight of Akabane-san puttering about the kitchen or living room, tidying up after Ban-chan or preparing his itinerary for the day, but there's nary sight or sound of the mysterious transporter as he walks inside. He must have already left; perhaps he had a job to go to.

Ginji looks toward the living room. If Akabane-san is up, then sometimes Ban-chan is as well. On those occasions he likes to flop on the couch and ease into the mornings first with a cup of coffee and a hot bowl of cereal. But he realizes there is no one here either when he finds the couch empty. Ban-chan must still be asleep in bed.

Cheered by the opportunity he's gifted with - he knows that Ban-chan and Akabane-san had lasagna for supper last night - Ginji immediately makes a beeline for the kitchen. He's halfway there when he hears a noise come from down the hall that sounds suspiciously like something he's not used to hearing.

He freezes in his tracks and listens with bated breath. The beginnings of dread stir in his gut at the possibility that both Ban-chan and Akabane-san have decided to sleep in. Ban-chan will just grumble and tell Ginji to keep it quiet, but Akabane-san's displeasure is not something he cares to risk. Neither is the morning type to begin with and Akabane-san is very particular about the proper observation of guest decorum. Finding Ginji stuffing his face in their kitchen sans permission would give him the perfect reason to hone his knife-throwing skills.

There it is again, that strange sound. In the back of his head Ginji knows he should just grab his plunder and go or try coming back later, but curiosity has its hooks in him now and he creeps in the direction of the noise. Another one just like it but pitched somewhat differently soon follows, and he realizes it's someone moaning. But it isn't a moan of pain - quite the opposite.

Warmth flushes Ginji's skin as he listens to the unmistakable sounds of lovemaking. His cheeks go pink at the thought that he's just walked in on a very inopportune time. He knows Ban-chan's got an active libido but it's not something he lets himself dwell on, rather like the thought of one's relatives doing it tends to cause a mental circuit to shut down in self-protection. That way lies insanity if allowed to marinate on the brain long enough.

Even so he can't help himself from moving closer to the bedroom…where else would such a sound be coming from? The door is closed but not all the way. There's a crack that's big enough for Ginji to peep through without being fully spotted.

His eyes widen at the sight. Two people are lying naked on the bed, moving together in a languid rhythm that belies their passion. One is longhaired, thick waves of midnight black spilling across the pillows like twilight's kiss at sunset. The other's hair is a rich brown shade, shorter, but spiked and tousled, partly from having been slept on and partly because it's just the way his sea-urchin style gravitates toward.

Ban-chan and Akabane-san haven't noticed him. A thankful Ginji tells himself to sneak back the way he came and leave the lovers to their private dance…but his feet won't move. His whole body won't move.

There's something about this scene that's got him rooted to the spot, captivated by the actions of the couple on the bed. He can't explain it to anybody, least of all himself - though it would be a lie to say that sexual urges have never really registered in his mind much beyond the occasional peep at a particularly attractive form, he doesn't deliberately seek them out…or so his friends would probably prefer to think. Ginji guiltily admits to having had his share of impure thoughts about both sexes.

On the bed there's a sudden sensuous twisting of bodies and now it's the transporter who's on top. He's riding Ban-chan's lap with increasing force, husky purrs and growls of delight working their way past his parted lips. Ginji blushes as he realizes that Akabane-san has a very nice body even as skinny as he is - he's thinner than Ban-chan, but then Ban-chan is all muscle which gives him additional bulk. It's the hips, he decides, his eyes almost magnetically drawn to the curves delineating Jackal's lower body. That trenchcoat is both concealing and revealing.

He shakes his head, mentally kicking himself for having those kinds of thoughts about Akabane-san of all people. Jackal may have his own erotic allure but that in no way negates the fact that he can be downright scary at times. Well, a lot of the time. Okay, most of the time. Fortunately a low groan from Ban-chan derails this train of thought and Ginji is spared further ruminations on Jackal's seductiveness.

_Any idiot can get laid, _Ban-chan had told him once, _but if you want to make an art of sex you have to be serious about it. _Indeed, that's what he's presently doing as his large hands play Akabane-san's slender body as finely as he would one of the violins he's so skilled with. Jackal responds eagerly to the intimate explorations, moving with him, pale skin flushed a warm olive tone from his exertions and purple eyes darkened to near-onyx by the transformation of desire.

Ban-chan is teaching him a new way to redirect his intensity. He controls the pace, helping the deadly transporter transmute his lethal urges into other acceptable avenues. A good thing too, for it appears that Jackal is as insatiable in bed as he is in battle. He moans as he rocks against Ban-chan, hips working with fluid grace as he seeks fulfillment. Ban-chan grasps his pelvis firmly, slowing him down when he moves too quickly and the other man whines softly, needing the rougher stimulation but finding himself trapped by his lover.

"Don't be greedy." Ban-chan's voice sounds ragged, as if he's been running hard. "I want us to come together this time."

"Midou-_kuuuuuun._" Jackal's voice is likewise strained. He's desperate for release, craving that intensity as an addict craves opiates. He's been addicted to one form of pleasure for so long that learning to trade it for a different type of excitement is taking time. That and patience, which contrary to popular belief Ban-chan can display in remarkable amounts, when presented with an opportunity that inspires him.

He utilizes that patience now as he rises to a sitting position, gathering Akabane-san into his arms. Ginji watches as Ban-chan strokes his face, his hair, murmuring a soft croon that's unintelligible. The petting seems to soothe Jackal, and his erratic panting slows some as his body relaxes against Ban-chan's.

Ginji can't help but smile. It's that same gentleness, that calm control that has helped to quell Raitei's rage whenever it flickers dangerously within reach. He has a hard time putting it into words, but he feels that the budding relationship between the two people he's most in awe of is beneficial to both. Jackal is not as prone to shedding unnecessary blood these days, and Ban-chan has an outlet for his rougher aspects without having to worry that he'll harm somebody unused to them.

Ginji knows he counts as one of the only people in the world whom Ban-chan can trust with his secrets, but all just the same it's nice to know someone else is in the same boat with you when it comes to certain shared experiences; thus he doesn't begrudge Ban-chan this intimacy with someone he really ought to be more wary of. Yet Akabane-san has his good side too, and when approached just the right way at the perfect time will gladly shower affections on the focus of his attention. Using the power of extreme cuteness Ginji has managed to con at least a dozen ice cream cones out of him on separate occasions.

Ban-chan claims his lover's mouth in a deepening kiss, which Akabane-san returns with equal vigor. The lovemaking picks up again where they left off, this time at a slower pace. Ginji unconsciously licks his lips, vicariously feeling every thrust along with them in his own body. The front of his shorts has grown uncomfortably tight.

The transporter's sleek body rises and falls rhythmically as he straddles Ban-chan, thrusting back against him while using Ban-chan's shoulders for leverage. He abruptly leans far backwards while bracing himself on his hands, and Ginji can see his face which is drawn into a paroxysm of pleasure - those violet eyes are closed in ecstasy and his mouth is open as he pants for breath, as if it's being driven from him every time Ban-chan pushes into him. Whatever Ban-chan's doing to him must feel really good.

His observations are supported when Ban-chan reaches between Jackal's spread legs and moves his hand just so, and the other man loudly moans his lover's name. "Mid - _ohhhhhh_…!"

Ginji winces in empathy for Akabane-san. One thing they both have in common is the love of instant gratification. He bites his lip and stuffs his fists in his vest pockets, resisting the sudden impulse to stick his hand down his shorts and relieve some of his own tension. Much like it's all too easy to lose control when tempted by Raitei's simmering electricity, doing _that _in here would guarantee him an instant ticket to the unhappy land of snakebites and bloody swords if he were to forget himself and wind up caught in his own pleasures.

Akabane-san sits back up and starts planting frantic little nibbling kisses all along Ban-chan's face and neck and shoulders. Ban-chan is evidently enjoying himself as well for his eyes squeeze shut then and he gasps when Akabane-san does something with his hips that makes him buck harder up from the bed. He tightens his one-handed grip and uses his other hand to clench in a tangled mane of black hair, pulling Akabane-san in for a fierce kiss.

Their mouths break apart for the briefest of seconds for air and Akabane-san laughs breathlessly. "What…was that…about not being greedy?" he purrs between hungry kisses while thrusting against the hand that's clasped around him.

"Shut up," Ban-chan rasps, and flips him over onto his back again. The morning sunlight streaming in through the window glistens along his back, the taut muscles of his body working smoothly in sinuous motion as he proceeds to pound Jackal into the mattress.

As always Ginji finds himself mesmerized by the sheer enigmatic presence of his partner; Ban-chan is so much more than what he seems at first to most people and right now he's exhibiting a primal rawness that until now only Ginji was privileged to see, and rarely at that. Ban-chan is a wild one at heart but his instincts are balanced out by his cool, analytical nature, which is part of what makes him such a champion fighter. On those extremely rare occasions when Ginji finds himself thinking of his days as Raitei, he has a feeling that the original battle which led to their friendship would have ended in both their deaths had it been allowed to go on. And he can't figure out why but he also senses that Ban-chan is of a similar mindset, and that this factor also plays into the strange relationship he shares with Akabane-san.

The moans and whimpers of pleasure increase in frequency and volume. The rougher Ban-chan is with him the more Jackal seems to like it, digging his fingers into Ban-chan's back and raking his nails down the skin in angry red furrows as he writhes beneath his lover. Ban-chan is finding his own share of satisfaction, eyes snapped shut as his teeth nip at and his lips suckle pale flesh while his hips thrust repeatedly on top of the other man.

Ginji dimly hears a soft rush of heavy breath and suddenly realizes it's coming from himself. Witnessing the erotic scene before him he can't help but imagine what it must be like to be on either end of the duo in such a situation. It's tough to tell who's having the most fun, Ban-chan or Akabane-san. With his imagination taking flight from fertile ground it could feasibly be argued that it's _Ginji_ who's got the best deal - he can indulge the thousands of 'what-if's' stampeding through his mind without actually participating and risking serious threat to life and limb. Ban-chan wouldn't hurt him - at least, not beyond his endurance - but with that personal armory of his Jackal's another story…

The lovers' pace is at a crescendo now, the bed creaking and shaking with a familiar enthusiasm that suggests this is typical behavior for their trysts. Finally both bodies slam together and hold for a split-second in a frozen arch before falling into a series of shudders, and the room is replete with ecstatic cries as they each hit their peak at the same time, just like Ban-chan said he wanted.

They collapse in a limp, sweaty tangle upon the bed, the echoes of their passion fading to jagged gasps which mingle in the descending silence. Akabane-san lifts a hand to idly sift his fingertips through the moist hair at the nape of Ban-chan's neck, and Ban-chan rests a palm on top of Akabane-san's sweat-beaded forehead, making similar motions with his own fingers.

Ginji decides this is as good a time as any to make his exit.

As carefully as he can he tiptoes back the way he came. He checks the kitchen clock on his way out and gently closes and locks the door. He wipes the sweat from his brow as he heads across the hall back to his own apartment, letting out a long, slow gust of pent-up breath once he's safely inside.

He's going to need a _very_ cold shower before the Get Backers go to work today.

--

_Omake/Epilogue: Caught In the Act_

Akabane stretched languidly and curled up beside his lover with a sleepy smile, nuzzling Ban's sweat-dampened neck as together they basked in the pleasant afterglow of their recent activities. "Midou-kun?"

"Nn?"

"Do you think that Ginji-kun was traumatized by watching us?"

"Heh. Serves that nosy eel right for always raiding our fridge."


	11. Hideaway

Title: Hideaway

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #18 – "say ahh..."

Rating: PG-13 (swearing, innuendo)

Warnings/Spoilers: None

Notes: Your basic h/c scenario. Let's hear it for fluffbunnies! (Am probably stretching this one a bit, but the idea was too good to pass up.)

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

Summary: Ban deals with a sick Akabane.

--

Ban's first clue that something isn't quite right is the match.

They've been sparring all afternoon as part of their arrangement – every now and then Ban will treat Jackal to a one-on-one fight – sans bloodletting, of course – to satisfy his battle cravings. Usually Ban's hard-pressed to keep up with him, but today he's the one doing all the offensive work while Jackal is relying heavily on defensive skill. This isn't typical of their matches, which almost always end with the both of them pushed to near-exhaustion, clothing ragged and dripping with sweat from their efforts to pin the other.

Ban easily dodges a swipe of knives – their use is allowed, sometimes; the only rule is no cutting flesh, though damage to any fabric is permissible – and counters with a left-handed punch that drives his opponent back with a grunt. Jackal took the hit in his upper shoulder and it's enough to unbalance him, leaving him open to another attack from Ban.

Ban doesn't take the opportunity. Instead he falls back some, giving Jackal a chance to regroup his offensive.

Purple eyes flash defiantly. Jackal's not on his game today and he knows it, but the thought of being perceived as an inferior opponent is anathema to him. "You're holding back, Midou-kun," he says accusingly.

"We're not trying to kill each other here, remember?" Ban snaps back, puzzled as to why Akabane wants to keep going when it's obvious he's not doing well. He's been favoring his right side more often than not, Ban's noticed, and his speed is slower than normal. By now there should have been at least a dozen rips in Ban's clothing from the knives. Today there's only half that number.

Jackal crouches slightly, muscles tensed as he prepares to spring his attack. There's a peculiar wariness in his eyes too, as if he feels…threatened. By what is a mystery – there's just the two of them here in this clearing. But Ban can't shake the feeling that there's something Akabane isn't telling him.

White teeth flicker in a feral smile. "Maybe we ought to take this to the next level then, if you're going to be so boring?" Jackal rushes him, both hands full of knives.

Ban's avoidance is closer this time but still off by their standards. As soon as the slashing blades whirl out of range he snakes beneath the other, spins and grabs him by his midsection as he flips him to the ground. They land on the grass with muffled growls, struggling briefly for dominance until Ban gets the upper hand and pins Jackal on his back. That's when he feels it.

Akabane's body suddenly goes rigid and he freezes in place, so quiet and still as to even hold his breath. Ban's hands are grasping his wrists so he can't fight back and his weight is keeping him down, but Akabane could still have limited movement – if he chose to. There's a strange blankness in his gaze as he stares, unblinking, up at Ban.

Ban remains where he is, holding Jackal down as he tries to make sense of this. Neither of them inflicted any major damage on the other, so it's not a question of pain. Akabane doesn't move, doesn't flinch, even when he leans in closer. Ban's reminded of the way a cornered rabbit will stare back at its hunter: breaking the eye contact is an invitation to fatality. "I decide what levels we fight at," he finally says, flatly. "And right now I've decided this fight's over. Neither of us is in good form today."

He doesn't miss the strange shadow of – relief? – that colors amethyst eyes for the scantest of seconds before that cool lavender gaze is in place again. Ban lets go and climbs off Akabane as he gets to his feet.

Jackal stays where he is for a minute before slowly getting up. He smoothes a few damp locks of ebony behind his ear as he takes a moment to collect himself. His clothes are in worse shape than Ban's, torn and stained from perspiration and landing on the grass so many times from being thrown. "Will we try again tomorrow?"

"Maybe. Depends on how I feel." Ban pulls off his ruined tank top and uses it to wipe his face, which is less dappled with sweat than Jackal's. He fumbles in his pants pocket for his lighter and cigarettes. He's curious as to why the fight was off but decides not to ask what the problem is…for now. Akabane is oddly sensitive about what he sees as his sense of professionalism. Having his capabilities questioned might set off a fresh storm of violence that neither of them needs.

"C'mon, Jackal. It's late and I'm starving." Ban slings the shirt-rag over his shoulder and starts walking back to the car.

After a moment, Akabane follows.

--

They opt for takeout from a nearby restaurant, purchasing several containers of steaming food – the majority of which is Ban's, whose penchant for stocking up hasn't eased any; old habits die hard – and taking it back to their apartment to eat. Ban doesn't bother with niceties like setting the table. He digs in and has one box already gone by the time the jackal emerges from the shower, dressed in a plain black robe.

"You better have saved some hot water for me," Ban says mildly between mouthfuls of moo goo gai pan.

"Mm," is the noncommittal response he gets. Akabane sits down and starts spooning a small amount of his beef dish onto a plate. He nibbles at tiny bites while Ban watches.

"You gonna eat the rest of that?"

Akabane looks up and gives him a small smile. "You may have it, if you wish." He pushes the container over to Ban.

"Thanks." Ban polishes it off as fast as he downed the other one. "You oughta eat more, Jackal. You're skinny enough as it is." He can't resist a dig. "Maybe that's why I was beating you today – a healthy appetite gives you better strength."

Akabane doesn't take the bait. He smiles politely but says nothing, continuing to pick at his food. He's always been a restrained eater but for some reason tonight strikes Ban as a little odd.

He shovels another helping of steamed rice into his mouth, and it comes to him. Jackal's not so much actually eating as he is just making a pretense of eating, moving the food around on his plate so it looks like he's dining.

Ban frowns. First the fight, now this. What's going on here?

At length Akabane finishes his sparse portion and rises, gathering up the remnants of their meal to clean or dispose of according to their function. Ban's still lolling in his seat, letting his stomach settle with that pleasant fullness. "Ahh, that was good. I needed that. What's on your agenda for tonight?" he calls to Akabane over his shoulder.

The muted clink of dishes and squeaks of soapy water can be heard, and he has to listen for Akabane's soft reply. "Not much. I may check my voicemail while you're taking your shower."

"Expecting anything in particular?"

"I doubt it. It's been a quiet week. But you never know."

This is true. The transport business, much like the recovery service, is fluid and largely dependent on the whims of clients. One week might pass as slowly as molasses dripping from a bottle while the next could race by more swiftly than a cheetah.

Ban gets up and stretches. "Shower time. Join me on the couch for a movie after?"

"If you like."

Ban takes his time in the shower, luxuriating in its pelting spray as he scrubs himself. He makes freely with Akabane's shampoo and conditioner – he has no idea what's in it, but damn it's wonders on the hair. Probably some expensive type, he figures. Most really good stuff is. The difference is he can actually afford it now. Ahh, the benefits of having a dangerous transporter for a boyfriend.

He finishes and towels off, swiping his robe – a long-tattered Christmas gift from Ginji – from its peg on the door. Ban puts it on and heads for the living room to pick out something to watch on television.

Akabane is waiting on the couch, long legs tucked neatly underneath him as he leans against the couch's arm, his head resting on one hand. He looks up as Ban enters the room, eyes opening to focus somewhat drowsily on him. He looks unusually tired, but it can't be from their fight. Ban knows he wasn't that rough.

"I haven't even picked the movie and you're falling asleep already? Talk about tough to please." Ban goes over to the entertainment unit and opens a cabinet. "What shall we watch? I feel like something funny. You got any preference?"

"I don't mind. I'll watch whatever you decide on."

Since Akabane doesn't seem to be interested Ban flips through the DVD selection till he finds a movie he likes. He pops it in the player and settles on the couch alongside his lover.

Halfway through the movie Akabane quietly gets up and leaves without saying a word.

It's on the tip of Ban's tongue to ask what he's up to, but just then a hilarious scene ensues onscreen and he bursts into laughter, thoughts of inquiring into the other's peculiar behavior temporarily forgotten in the wake of exploding pies and loud car chases. By the time it does occur to him to check on Akabane Ban realizes he's finished watching the rest of the movie by himself.

He looks through the apartment and finds Akabane in bed, curled up on his side with his back to Ban. The black robe is gone, draped over a closet door. In its place is nothing but pale skin, partially concealed by a sheet wound modestly around his lower body.

Ban studies the slender figure on the bed, noting his relaxed posture and lack of clothing with a slight smile. If this means what he thinks it might, he's certainly amenable to it, so he sheds his own robe and climbs into bed next to his lover. His lips are nuzzling a pale neck and his hand is already traveling along the curve of a waist and slipping down a prominent hipbone when he hears a soft sigh as Akabane stirs.

"Midou-kun…not tonight, please? I have to work in the morning."

Ban raises a brow. "Since when did you get called in on a job?"

"A last-minute arrangement. I only learned of it while you were busy."

Ban considers whether or not to press the issue. A part of him wonders if it's just a ploy to get back at him for earlier; it wouldn't be the first time Jackal's frozen him out in response to a perceived slight. At length he eases back onto the pillows. "Think you'll be home for dinner?"

"Should be. It's just a small delivery."

Ban frowns somewhat. It's not like Jackal to go for the smaller jobs, even though he's encouraged him to in order to wean him off some of the bloodier ones. Still, one of them has to bring in the money and since the Get Backers are having a slow period…

"I'll make dinner tomorrow," Ban says, spooning up against Akabane and pulling him in closer with an arm around his waist. "Bratwursts and potato salad. But you have to eat it, or the German in me will consider it an insult. You wouldn't want me to be disappointed, would you?"

A quiet chuckle comes from his lover. "Of course not, Midou-kun." Akabane takes hold of Ban's arm and moves it up to his chest, away from his waist. He clasps Ban's hand in his and settles down to sleep. "Good night."

"'Night, Jackal."

Ban drifts toward slumber himself, still pondering Akabane's unusual behavior.

--

The next day brings no change in the Get Backers' employment status. At least Hevn hasn't poked her nose around. Ban's never sure whether to feel worried or pleased when she comes calling with a job offer. The assignments she brings them pay well but often demand a heavy toll.

As a result he spends the day bullshitting with Ginji. The two of them kick around town in the Ladybug, discussing random plans and people – Ginji's still shy about asking Ban about the nature of his relationship with Akabane, even though Ban's told him several times that it's okay to talk about it, if he wants – and stopping once for ice cream cones before hitting Paul's for coffee and pizza.

Ban gets a kick out of coming to Honky Tonk now that he's got money available. He plasters a smug grin on his face as he hands Paul several bills and places an order for the biggest pizza, telling him to load it with all the toppings.

"Except for those fishy things. I don't like those," Ginji says.

"Like hell you're leaving those off. I eat 'em," Ban tells him.

Paul is curious. "Hey, where'd you get actual money when you guys haven't worked in a whole week?"

A voice pipes up from the back. "Two words, Wan-san: Doctor and Jackal." The monkey trainer looks insufferably smug. "The snake bastard here's officially a kept man."

Annoyed that an otherwise decent day has to be ruined by a guy who talks to animals Ban shoots Shido a drop-dead glare. "Speak for yourself. At least I have the decency not to mooch off little girls," he sneers.

The regular fight ensues with Shido angrily defending Madoka's honor, Ban inventing new insults for his archrival, Ginji protesting that they should all just try to get along, and in the middle of it the pizza arrives, hot and fresh from the oven. Paul tosses it at the squabbling group and scurries for cover behind the counter with the practiced ease of experience.

Later, when the food has been devoured and tempers cooled Ban invites Ginji over to his and Akabane's place for dinner and some TV. Ginji happily agrees and they eventually wind up laughing themselves silly in front of a comedy Ginji suggested – when they're not arguing vehemently over who gets to eat what samples of the food Ban's preparing, that is.

When Akabane arrives it's to a scene of relative chaos. The kitchen is a mess but the dinner is organized, laid out on the table in splendor. "Hey! I was wondering if you'd make it on time. Short delivery job, my ass," Ban snorts.

He looks more closely at the black-clad figure standing in the doorway and realizes something's wrong. Akabane's posture appears weary rather than relaxed, and when he takes off his hat Ban is surprised by the fatigue he sees in the violet eyes. He looks about ten years older than his appearance – though neither of them knows for sure how old the jackal really is.

"We ran into some unexpected difficulties."

Ginji waves from the couch. "Hi, Akabane-san. Hope you don't mind me joining you guys for dinner. It was Ban-chan's idea." He gets a look of slight nervousness on his face, unsure of his presence being welcome in a home that technically isn't his, especially a place that belongs to someone who boasts a creepy familiarity with sharp objects. Ban may live here but Ginji knows without being told who pays the bills.

Despite his obvious exhaustion Akabane manages a wan smile for Ginij's benefit. "Quite all right, Ginji-kun. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Ginji, pour the drinks, wouldja? Everything's ready." Ban follows Akabane towards the bedroom, making sure they're out of earshot before he asks the first question on his mind. "What kind of difficulties?" he says quietly.

Akabane sets his hat on top of the dresser. His shoulders slump a bit and he sighs. "Nothing that would give you cause for worry, Midou-kun."

Ban gives him an appraising look. "No J's?"

"No, Midou-kun. No J's."

Ban starts to ask him the second question when Akabane turns around. "Why don't you and Ginji-kun start on dinner? I have some messages to attend to but it would be a shame to let your efforts grow cold."

He starts to pass Ban on his way out of the room when Ban stops him, a hand coming to rest lightly on his shoulder. "What about you?"

Akabane looks away for a moment, then back at him. His gaze is false serenity and the lie flows from him as smooth as syrup. "I already ate something on my way home." He gives Ban a gentle but cool kiss on the cheek and pulls away. "It does look lovely though. Maybe later I might try some."

He escapes to the office before Ban can ask further questions.

Scowling at the thought of being denied pertinent information Ban returns to the kitchen. "Maybe we'd better postpone movie night," he muses to his best friend. "Something's up with Jackal. I think he's not feeling well."

Ginji looks as puzzled by that news as Ban feels. "Akabane-san is sick?" he asks in a whisper.

"I'm not sure. We had a duel yesterday and he was putting in a sucky performance, not at all his usual style. He's barely been eating and now tonight he comes home looking like a wrung-out dishrag and tells me he's not hungry again – well, he didn't say that himself, but I could tell when I asked him and he made up something about having a bite on the way over here."

Ginji cocks his head to one side. "Maybe he's upset about something. I know I have a hard time concentrating on food if I'm worried…"

Ban shakes his head. "Jackal doesn't get worries, he _gives_ 'em."

Further discussion is preempted by the reappearance of Akabane. Dinner is a muted affair with conversation taking place mostly on Ginji's part. Ban offers his contributions as he's prompted, keeping one eye on Akabane to track his waning progress and the other on Ginji to reign him in so he doesn't go overboard on the chatter. Akabane sips sparingly at his water glass and says very little other than polite, mostly one-worded replies to anything Ginji asks of him.

Ginji offers to help with the dishes afterwards, but Ban tells him to let them sit in the sink. One night without housekeeping isn't going to cause any trauma. They trade a few more friendly quips and barbs and Ginji tells him to tell Akabane he hopes he feels better soon before heading over to his apartment across the hall for the night.

Ban goes to the bedroom – he has a hunch that's where he'll find the other – but Akabane isn't there. The sound of running water from the bathroom gets his attention and he heads there next.

The sight that greets him makes him hesitate in the doorway. Clothes are piled haphazardly in one corner and some of them look like they've been ripped. Ban's eye falls on the white dress shirt in particular. There's a jagged tear in one side of it that's stained bright red.

His unease deepens. What he told Ginji was true. The only way Akabane would ever turn up injured is from meeting an opponent at least as formidable as he is, and there ought to be a lot more damage involved. This has the work of an amateur.

The shower's curtain is drawn and Ban starts to reach for it when a glimpse of something in the mirror catches his notice. The curtain isn't completely closed and the mirror's placement is such that it picks up the tall form leaning against the wall, one hand braced against the tile. Akabane is standing under the spray, shoulders hunched over and head bowed. His soaked long hair is hanging in a waterfall over his face but Ban senses his eyes are closed. He looks a little lower, where Akabane's other arm is wrapped around himself, and his lips thin in displeasure.

A scar-studded pale hand is pressed protectively over a three-inch wound on his lower ribcage. It's still bleeding a little because rose-colored water is trickling through Akabane's fingers, down his skin and circling the drain.

Ban leaves the bathroom as quietly as he'd entered it.

He's stretched out on the bed when Akabane comes out almost an hour later. "Want to tell me what the hell's going on, Jackal?" Ban says in a tone that, though mild, brooks no argument.

Akabane raises tired eyes to him. His face looks pinched, like he's fighting off a headache. He keeps his robe on as he crawls onto his side of the mattress. "It was a careless mistake. I didn't kill him. I wanted to, but I knew you wouldn't like that. So I let him off with a warning this time." Clearly he considers the subject closed, because he settles into the pillow and closes his eyes. Before he wraps the covers around himself he has one more thing to say, however. "I'm sorry that I was not good company for you or Ginji-kun tonight."

Ban studies him carefully. He's favoring his right side again even though it was his left that took the injury. "Ginji's cool. He says he hopes you're all right."

Akabane is silent.

"Are you?"

Akabane doesn't open his eyes. "I'm fine, Midou-kun." Even his voice sounds worn out. "It's just been a long day. That's all."

Silence descends on them like an uncomfortably itchy blanket. Ban finally speaks. "Do you have to work again tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Should I bother fixing anything, or no?"

"Do as you please. Good night."

Good night indeed. Ban's scowl is fierce enough to peel wallpaper. He leaves the bedroom to take up residence on the couch for the rest of the night, until sleep and the lure of a comfier spot draw him back to Akabane's side.

As he slides beneath the sheets, gaze fixed on the figure huddled at the other end of the bed, Ban wonders once more: _What's wrong with him?_

--

Next day it gets worse.

Akabane is gone all day, leaving Ban to pace their apartment in between scanning his cell phone for potentially missed calls – not likely since the phone hasn't rung once – and racking his mind trying to think of reasons behind Jackal's recent uncharacteristic behavior. Illness as a possibility occurs to him several times, but for the life of him he can't figure out what it is that Akabane might have. There've been no visible symptoms other than fatigue and loss of appetite. Ban has half a mind to tell Akabane when he comes home that he's going to a doctor first thing next morning.

The door to their apartment opens. Ban jumps up from the couch. "Where've you been, dammit! You know how late it is?"

Akabane ignores him and goes straight to the bedroom. At least he doesn't look like he's been beaten up since yesterday.

Pissed that he hasn't gotten a response Ban goes after him. "I'm talking to you. Did you hear me?"

Akabane takes off his hat and coat and hangs them in their respective places. He faces Ban with an eerily calm smile. He looks a little flushed in the face, as if he's been running. "Calm down, Midou-kun. Everything's all right."

"Everything is _not _all right and you know it. Where were you?"

"Maguruma needed to stop by a parts shop and pick up some things for his truck. It was on the way back from our job and he asked if that would be okay. I said I didn't mind. If I had known how far out of the way this place was I would have called to let you know." Akabane's voice is soothing but there's something missing from it, a quality that Ban can't quite place. It does sound better than from last night, though. "I hope you didn't postpone having something to eat on my account."

Somewhat placated by the explanation Ban's tone loses some of its gruffness. "I ordered Italian from that deli downtown. It's pretty good."

Akabane lines up his boots in the closet and loosens his tie. "Why don't you warm it and we can share some before calling it a night."

"Eat and run, huh?"

"Sitting in a truck for hours on end is more tiresome than it looks, Midou-kun."

"Yeah, I guess that's true."

Confused by this turn of events Ban goes about reheating some food. Akabane seems better this evening, but something still isn't right. There was a peculiar shine in his eyes a moment ago and his senses tell him it isn't that of either lust – for a fight or for anything else - or excitement. As he watches the dish turn around in the microwave Ban thinks. Maybe it's possible that Jackal was just having an off streak. It happens. He's had times where everything that could go wrong did, and then life would pick up again a few days later. Maybe this is strange to him because he's still learning about Akabane's habits, his lifestyle. Different strokes for different folks and all that.

But inside a part of him knows that's not the case. Even Aesclepius can feel that there's something off-kilter. His right arm's beginning to twitch a little.

Still, peace is peace and he's fixing to enjoy it while it lasts. Ban sets the table while Akabane joins him, dressed now in his black silk robe, dark hair flowing loosely around his face and shoulders. It's then that Ban realizes how thin he is, how the robe molds itself along the slopes and planes of his body and makes him appear rather angular in places.

"You _will_ clean your plate tonight. That's an order from the great Ban Midou-sama," he says. "This is the first time I'm actually getting to see you eat in what, three days?"

Akabane looks up and when he does the light from overhead reveals his face in such a way as to make him seem shockingly gaunt. He's always been slender but tonight he looks skinnier than usual. Or is it just a trick of the lighting? Maybe it's the robe; the thin fabric clings to his body almost like a second skin.

That thought brings to mind more pleasant ideas as his libido stirs. Ban wonders if he can sweet-talk Akabane into a little making out after dinner. Maybe some games of the bedroom variety are just what they both need to get things back on the level.

Akabane smiles and inclines his head slightly as Ban dishes out the leftover Italian. "I promise to give your effort the appreciation it deserves."

They eat in companionable silence, exchanging commentary here and there. Perhaps it does take Akabane longer than usual to finish his dinner – especially with the heaping portion Ban poured onto his plate – but he does eat, and as promised cleans off the entire serving. "Truly, this is very good," he tells Ban.

"Told you so."

They clear away the dishes – for once Akabane doesn't argue when Ban tells him to leave the still-dirty sink as it is – and take up residence on the couch while Ban clicks the stereo remote on. Soft violin music wafts forth from the speakers nearby.

"Hey, Jackal. Come here and sit with me."

Akabane slowly leans into his embrace and they half-recline, or try to, in that way for several minutes. Then Ban flicks off the stereo and speaks. "I have an idea."

"Oh?"

"We can put that squirming of yours to good use. You're giving me a hard-on, you know."

"I'm sorry. I'm only trying to get my back comfortable, Midou-kun."

"Don't be sorry." Ban slides an arm around Akabane's waist in an unmistakable manner. "I think I can make us both real comfortable, don't you?"

To his surprise the gesture is politely rebuffed. "It's late, Midou-kun. You said so yourself." Akabane gently pushes his hand away.

Ban reaches for him again, kneading his shoulders and ignoring the stiffening of the other's back in response. "Well, yeah, but I meant late as in turning up for supper late. It just sets me on edge is all, when I don't know what you're doing out there." He smiles and lifts his head to nibble Akabane's earlobe. "'Sides, I thought you found playing with me interesting."

Akabane shifts edgily, attempting to avoid Ban's advances even as he smiles half-heartedly in an effort to maintain his habitual politeness. "I will make a point of calling you in the future when I know I will be running late. Now I think I prefer to turn in for the night, if you don't mind."

He ought to know better when his lover says he isn't in the mood, really, but desire has its own rules of engagement and Ban's intent on persuading Akabane to come to bed with him as he tries to caress the other's thigh. It's been a while and he's grown used to getting laid on a regular basis. "C'mon, Jackal. I'll make it good for us…"

His hands are fondling air. Akabane's up off of him and the couch and halfway to the bedroom before Ban realizes he's been turned down again.

It's something of a rude surprise for him. For one thing he isn't used to being turned down, period. Before he hooked up with Ginji dates would flock to him like ants to candy, which is partly how he decided to bestow upon himself the title of "Invincible Midou-Sama." Akabane usually enjoys this part of their relationship as much as Ban does and it's rare for him to decline an invitation. On the few occasions they refrain from sex it's because one or both of them has a job in the early morning - and even then they'll often indulge in some necking and petting like a couple of teenagers before going to sleep.

A bit irritated by both his lover's sudden disinterest and the likelihood that he won't be getting intimate with anything besides his own right hand tonight, Ban pursues. He grasps Akabane by the shoulders firmly and turns him around. "You want to do it in bed? Fine by me, that's more comfortable anyway – "

"Midou-kun – "

Ban steps in for a kiss, running his mouth over Akabane's quiet protests as his hands try for another grope. "Hm, Jackal? How about this – "

Akabane pushes his busy hands away again, slapping at them now. "Midou-kun, I don't – "

"If we can't get our fight on at least I can give it to you where it _really _counts, ahh?"

"Midou-kun – "

Akabane turns to avoid another of Ban's kisses. It lands on the side of his face and begins to tease his jaw while a tongue slithers along his exposed neck. Ban wraps his arms around him to keep him from moving away this time. Akabane struggles, limply at first but with increasing resistance; still Ban is determined to out-stubborn his lover even as long legs press together to prevent him from slipping a playful hand between them. "Mm, Akabane. You know this is what you need. We both need it, huh? Just a quick roll in the sack, something to take the edge off?"

If he wasn't so distracted by his own lust and focus on taming the jackal Ban would have taken better notice of where his hands are wandering. As it is he's horny and getting frustrated and hardly in any condition to catch the way Akabane's eyes narrow dangerously when one hand palms the curve of his waist and the other reaches down and squeezes his right hip –

It happens so fast neither of them realizes it till the blood is dripping from Ban's arm. Akabane whips around with a feral snarl and lashes out with all four scalpels extended from his hand. The pain burns brightly in the wound's wake and Ban yelps, instantly letting go and leaping back.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, Ban clutching his forearm in disbelief, Akabane icily indifferent to his lover's shock. He spins on his feet and stalks inside their bedroom, pushing the door shut with a solid smack that finally – if the knives haven't already spoken so eloquently – conveys the message: _Leave me alone._

Ban examines his injury. The cuts aren't deep but they sting like a bitch. Muttering curses under his breath he knocks about the kitchen looking for any first-aid supplies. He finds a bottle of antiseptic and a box of gauze wrapping under the sink. Good enough, and thank God it isn't rubbing alcohol because that would really make him unhappy. He doesn't care how many germs it kills, that fucking shit _stings. _

Ban dresses his wounds and starts thinking, now that he's able to process things without the fog of a charged libido - getting slashed with scalpels is a surefire sex drive killer. He doesn't think Akabane genuinely meant to attack him…well, he did, but it was more of a reflexive action rather than a premeditated response. What had he done to trigger it? He runs the last few minutes through his mind again and this time he sees himself groping Akabane around the waist. Which is not coincidentally the area he seems to have been sensitive about as far as touching is concerned these past few days.

The puzzle thickens in Ban's mind. Akabane hasn't sustained any serious injuries that he's aware of. Of course Jackal wouldn't tell him if he had, but when Ban had seen him in the shower last night the only visible wound was that one on his side. So what else could be giving him trouble?

He goes back to the living room and reads for a while, figuring to give Akabane enough time to cool down before chancing a fresh approach. Eventually Ban heads for the bedroom, pausing to knock on the closed door instead of risking more knifely displeasure by just barging in unannounced.

"Jackal? It's me. I'm coming in to go to sleep now. You better not throw any of those damn knives at me, you hear?"

There's no response so Ban opens the door, pushing it in slowly and keeping to the far side of it just in case his lover decides to greet him with an exceedingly sharp reply anyway. Nothing nasty happens and Ban studies the figure on the bed that's curled up into a tight ball with his back to him. He calls out quietly, once more. "Akabane? I'm going to bed now. Just to sleep. Nothing else."

Still no reply. Either he's asleep or he's giving Ban the silent treatment. Ban shrugs and sets about getting ready for bed. Best to just let Jackal stew on his own time and get it out of his system.

He climbs into bed, careful not to disturb the other man in case he really is sleeping, and settles himself.

_This shit is getting settled for sure in the morning, _he thinks as sleep sinks its fangs into him.

--

Morning comes sooner than he thinks. When Ban wakes it's to an erratic ripple of movement. The mattress is rocking a little in a way that has nothing to do with how he'd have preferred to make it move. He opens his eyes and looks over at the clock, which reads a little after four, then at Akabane. Is he having a nightmare or something? He's fidgeting underneath the covers, a faint look of discomfort creasing his face though he seems to be sleeping as his eyes are still closed.

Ban considers nudging him with a hand but the fresh memory of his sliced forearm quickly dampens that impulse. He tries to go back to sleep instead.

Not more than ten minutes later Akabane shifts again, tossing restlessly to his other side. His legs slide in repetitive motion along the mattress as if he's sleepwalking. It seems to be an unconscious attempt at distraction to soothe whatever's bothering him. Finally he settles down and Ban rolls over to find a comfortable position himself. Great, now _he _can't sleep.

It happens again sometime after his last switch, and again five minutes later. Akabane flips over and utters a soft keening noise that makes Ban's ears twitch in recognition of pain. Perhaps that cut he sustained earlier is giving him more trouble than Ban originally thought it would. It didn't look so terrible when he'd glimpsed it, but if it got infected…

Akabane turns over yet again and just when Ban's ready to risk impalement anyway by telling him to knock it off and go sleep on the sofa if he's so miserable, the jackal suddenly obliges his unspoken wish and gets up and leaves. Relieved that the tossing and turning has vanished, Ban slips back towards dreamland.

The sounds of someone throwing up in the bathroom prevent him from fully entering that state.

The nagging worry that's dogged him all through the weekend immediately squashes any lingering drowsiness Ban has. This is _not_ normal behavior for Jackal. He kicks back the covers and gets up, hearing water flush and a sink being run. The door to the bathroom is closed but not locked and this time Ban doesn't knock before throwing it open and coming inside.

Akabane isn't quick enough in hiding the alarm in his eyes as he looks up from where he's hunched over the sink. He freezes stock-still, staring at Ban's reflection in the mirror.

Ban's shocked by his appearance. This time it's no trick of the lighting – Akabane looks like hell. He's so damn thin and his skin tone is ashen and pale to the point of bordering on a corpselike shade. The lone exception to this is his face, which is pink and dappled with tiny beads of sweat. There are dark circles under his eyes, making him look even grimmer. With his black hair hanging in tangles over his eyes – which flicker hauntingly in the captive blue stare of Ban's own gaze – and his defensive posture – his hands are curled over the edge of the sink, fingers curved into claws as if either grasping it for support or preparing to protect himself – he looks like he's just been soundly whipped, or expecting to be, for something he doesn't understand.

Ban thinks of the dinner he forced him to eat. God. He'd been all over the bed tonight in misery until throwing it back up just now. Guilt and worry extinguish his anger before it even has a chance to get fired. "Akabane. What's wrong?" he asks softly. "Don't tell me nothing. I heard you in here. I know you haven't been well."

Akabane slowly, slowly turns around, not losing the defensiveness. Warily he looks at Ban, his lower lip quivering slightly for a moment as if he's unsure what to say.

The pain speaks for him. Abruptly his eyes squeeze shut and he doubles over, arms going to wrap around his midsection. He crumples to the floor with a whimper and Ban's there to catch him before he hits the tile, rubbing his back and murmuring a soothing croon as he lifts Akabane in his arms – too easily, he thinks – and carries him back into the bedroom.

He lays Akabane on the bed, trying to keep him from curling up into a ball again. "No, lie still. Where does it hurt?" But Akabane either can't or won't answer him, intent on burrowing into the covers and hiding from Ban's touches. He bites back a frustrated sigh. Time to break out the Jagan.

"Akabane. Akabane. Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me."

The gentle coaxing works. When Akabane blinks again it's to a deep green forest, a clear stream running gently nearby and the wind blowing kisses through his hair. Ban is there too, and he takes the jackal in his arms and strokes his face. "Tell me what hurts."

"Everything," Akabane says in that fey voice of his. "But it's worst in my stomach."

Now they're getting somewhere. "Right side?" Ban guesses.

"Yes."

"Hold still for me for a second."

In real time Ban's smoothing out Akabane's limbs and slipping his hands inside the robe, carefully probing the skin of the abdomen with his fingertips. Just as he suspects, there's a swelling in front of the right hip that shouldn't be there. It's somewhat firm and feels like he's pressing on a lump of rubber when he touches it.

"God, you're burning up too," he mutters as his other hand palms Akabane's moist forehead.

In the forest Akabane looks like his normal self, though his purple eyes are grey with apprehension. He lets the dream-Ban hold him and stroke his hair. Here there is no pain, even if only for a minute. "It's my appendix, isn't it?" he says matter-of-factly.

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure it is. But how'd you know?"

The jackal actually smiles some. "I was a doctor, after all. I'm trained to know these things."

Before Ban can ask him why he didn't seek emergency treatment then the Jagan ends and they're both back in a moment neither of them wants to experience. While Akabane curls in on himself once more Ban settles for a terse, "How long has this been going on?"

"Since…the start of this weekend, I think…"

That corroborates his observations. Ban scowls and pulls away. "You're going to a hospital. Now."

"No." Akabane suddenly reaches for him.

Ban is out of grasp, however, and he picks up his phone from the dresser. "No arguments, Jackal! You're damn lucky it hasn't burst on you yet." He walks back over to the bed and flips open the phone's case. "Even with just the fever you've got I'd be dragging you to a hospital…"

A hand grabs his wrist, stunning in its sudden strength. Ban looks down at the nails digging into his skin, then to Akabane's face. There's an expression there that's almost pleading in its intensity.

"Don't, Midou-kun. _Please._"

Ban hesitates, torn between further argument and acquiescing to Akabane's request. He hasn't missed the unspoken note of concern –

- _fear _

- the anxiety in the jackal's voice that makes him wonder momentarily about the source of this reaction. He glances at the hand that's still gripping him, at the splash of scarring that colors it on both sides. Whatever Akabane's reason is for not wanting to go to a hospital it must have something to do with how he came by these markings.

"Jackal. You have to get help now. If you don't you'll die from the infection," Ban finally says. "I can't believe you let it go on this long without saying something to me about it. What were you thinking?"

Akabane lets go of him and folds his body back into the fetal position, shivering slightly. His voice is so soft now Ban has to lean closer to hear him. "I thought…because of the…because of my – I thought it would clear up on its own."

"Obviously you thought wrong." Ban starts punching in numbers on his cell.

"_Midou-kun!"_

Ban can't help but wince at the quavering cry. Considering his remarkable threshold Akabane must be in some terrible pain, but instinct tells him there's more to it than that. Why else would the jackal get worked up over something as relatively simple as an impromptu emergency room visit unless there was something he didn't want made known? He reaches over and gently strokes his lover's cheek. "Shh. I'm not calling emergency. I'm calling Paul. He'll know what to do." _I hope,_ he thinks to himself.

The other line rings and rings before Paul picks up, sounding every bit as sleepy as anyone would at being awakened at this hour. "'Lo?"

"Paul, it's Ban. You awake yet?"

A long yawn. "I am now. What are you calling people at almost five am for?"

"I need you to come to my place now. Don't ask why, just get here and I'll explain everything when you do, I swear."

"That urgent, huh?" Paul yawns again, not sounding all that fazed. He's long used to Ban's exploits. "All right, gimme a couple minutes to get dressed and I'll be up shortly."

Ban cuts the call. "Thank God he only lives down the street at the same building as his café," he mutters to himself.

He sits down next to Akabane, careful not to jar him too much. "Take it easy. We'll get you fixed up here soon." Ban starts combing his fingers through Akabane's hair as a comforting gesture. "I'd use my Jagan on you again if I could, but I can't. I'm sorry."

Pain-filled amethyst eyes slip shut. "It's all right."

The minutes ease by far too slowly for Ban's liking before there's a pounding on the apartment door. Ban gets up and goes to let Paul in, briefing him on the situation as he takes him inside the bedroom where Akabane awaits. "I don't know what to do. He doesn't want to go to a hospital but he needs treatment fast."

Paul rubs his chin thoughtfully, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn. "I suppose you want me to call somebody."

"You know people who can help?"

"Yeah, a private clinic. They'll keep things hushed." Paul digs out his cell phone from a pocket and begins dialing.

While he's connecting with the contact he knows Ban is breathing a slight sigh of tentative relief and placing his own call.

Ginji will want to be kept informed of how Akabane's doing, of course.

--

Next day he's standing in a corridor of the clinic his lover was taken to, waiting for the elevator when he gets an unexpected dose of animal intuition to enlighten him.

"Hey, snake bastard."

"Monkey-spanker," Ban shoots back automatically. This verbal _tete-a-tete_ is par for the course with him and Shido; seldom do they ever deviate from it except in the course of a joint mission. "What do you want?"

"Just on my way to return something a client paid me to retrieve." Shido dangles a small jewelry box in front of him. "Some lady who works here lost a ruby ring last week. Pretty easy assignment. She took it off at a restaurant and forgot she left it in the washroom."

"Perfect for your abilities," Ban snorts. "Dogs are experts at fetching shit."

"And snakes are experts at spitting it," Shido snaps. Then in a less irritable tone, he asks, "What're you here for?"

"Visiting somebody."

The elevator door finally opens. They both enter and Ban hits the button on the panel before Shido can make his selection. "Yeah, I heard. Your boyfriend came down with surprise appendicitis."

Ban glares at him and he shrugs. "Ginji told me this morning."

"Should've known. Why'd you ask me what I was here for then?"

"I just wanted to hear you say it."

"Pfft."

"Figured that's what you'd say. I suppose you'll make up some lame fib about why your arm's all scratched up if I ask about that, too."

Ban unconsciously fingers the scabs on his skin. The elevator is sure taking its sweet time to his floor. "What gets me is," he says after several minutes, "this crap was going on all fucking weekend and he never told me about it. Not once."

"Eh, what else did you expect from Dr. Jackal?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Shido considers. Then he says, "When animals are sick or wounded they won't show it, not even to their own kind. Weakness is a signal that they're prey. So they go off and hide, until the weakness is gone…one way or another."

The hackles on the back of Ban's neck rise. "What the hell d'you mean by that?"

The monkey-master shrugs. "Either the animal gets better or it dies."

Ban stares at him for a long time. Shido says nothing, only gazes back with an unfathomable expression. By silent agreement they break the stare at the same time, each man facing the door with his own thoughts.

The elevator stops and the door opens. Ban gets out. "Say hello to Madoka for me, apeface."

"Will do. Give Jackal my regards, snakeskin."

Ban walks through the hall toward the room that Akabane's being kept in, adding everything up in his mind.

Jackal couldn't fight up to his usual standards. He wouldn't eat anything and was losing weight because of that. He was more sensitive than usual about being touched. He avoided Ban more often than not and got irritable when he was approached. And he never said a thing about the way he was feeling until he couldn't hide it any more and Ban confronted him about it.

Shido's words return to haunt him: _Sick animals won't show their weakness. It means they are prey for others._

Is it possible that despite their relationship…Akabane still thinks of Ban as a potential predator?

Strangely, that idea hurts in a way Ban never expected it to. It's not as if he's in _love _with him, for crying out loud…

"Goddammit."

He pauses outside the room, wondering if it's a good idea for him to have come. On the one hand, he isn't sure now if Akabane would have wanted him to. If he asks about the other's condition, will he get more casual dismissals and lies? On the other, he remembers Akabane's anxiety over being made to confess his weakness. The way those purple eyes had looked at him when Ban had caught him in the bathroom last night… This isn't a hospital per se, being run by a private investor that Paul knows, but it might as well be to one who has an apparent phobia of them.

Something Ginji once said during a conversation comes to his mind. They'd been discussing whether or not it was possible to take independence too far in the drive for self-reliance. Long before he and Akabane had come to their arrangement, Ban had said that somebody like Jackal was perfectly fine on his own – indeed, given his proclivities it was for the best that he remained a loner. Ginji, however, had disagreed. "I don't know, Ban-chan. Everybody needs someone to be there for them once in a while. You and I have each other, plus there's Himiko-chan. Shido and Emishi look out for one another and Shido's also got Madoka-chan. Kazuki has Juubei. Makubex stays with Sakura. But who looks after Akabane-san?"

Who would want to? Who would care?

_I cannot betray anyone because I am beholden to no one._

Who would be there for that person when _he _was the one betrayed at last, and by his own body no less…?

Ban sighs as he comes to a realization. He can't bring himself to abandon Akabane now, not after everything they've been through and what he's learned. Ginji's seen most thoroughly to that. Damn his interfering nosy softhearted compassionate ass.

He enters the room.

Akabane is lying in bed, looking surprisingly small and frail amidst the covers that seem to swallow him up in them. Probably because he's been so sick these last few days. Despite his paler than usual skin tone he does look better though. The fever's gone and so is the waxy corpse-pallor. He stirs as Ban goes to sit on the edge of the bed, blinking up at him through exhausted lilac-shaded eyes. "Midou-kun?" he whispers.

"Just passing through the neighborhood and thought I'd check on you." Ban pushes his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose.

Akabane offers a tired smile. His eyes are foggy with sleep and something else. "I'm on drugs right now," he says, moving one arm which has an intravenous drip inserted into the vein.

"Yeah, you look like they've doped you up pretty good on antibiotics," Ban says with a nod. "That appendix come out all right?"

"Apparently."

"Gonna show me your new scar?"

Akabane smiles again and closes his eyes for a brief moment. He reopens them and reaches for Ban's hand. His grip is no stronger than the grasp of a kitten's paw at the moment. "It's not very big. Or impressive." He lightly rests Ban's hand on top of the robe he's dressed in, over the bandaged area on his abdomen.

Ban snorts. "What, you'd have preferred the thing explode through your guts? Make a flashier scar, is that it?"

Akabane makes a tiny giggling noise. "Oh, Midou-kun. You're so amusing." His eyes droop shut again.

"One of us has to be. 'Cause this shit of yours is really wearing thin, Jackal," Ban finishes on a harder note.

Akabane is clearly worn out from his ordeal, but he summons enough strength to open his eyes and look at Ban again, confused. "I don't understand."

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't have cared? God, and I kept knocking you around all weekend, with the fight and trying to have sex – " Ban gets up and starts pacing next to the bed, raking a hand through his hair. "Then I made you eat all that fucking pasta you harked back up…"

"It's all right, Midou-kun. You couldn't have known."

"I would have if you'd told me!" Ban's near-shout draws the attention of a passing nurse, who politely but coolly reminds him to keep the volume down. He mumbles an apology and as soon as her back is off through the door he flips an obscene gesture at her.

He turns back to Akabane, who's drifted off again. "Hey. Look at me. I'm not done yet."

Akabane's eyelids flutter open after a struggle. They must really have him on some powerful juice. "I did not mean to inconvenience you. My apologies," he murmurs, the words slightly slurred from the drugs' effects.

"I don't give a flying fuck about inconvenience," Ban snaps. "Wait, I take that back. It'd have been _damned_ inconvenient if you'd died on me because you were too chickenshit to tell me you were that sick."

A vague irritation flares in those purple eyes. "I did not feel it necessary to inform you of such details – "

"- Because you were afraid I'd use it against you somehow," Ban ends. "Don't even try to deny it, Jackal, I know that's what was running through your head the whole time. That's what you're thinking right now, isn't it? 'If I let myself be this vulnerable when will he take advantage of that to finish me off?' Well I'm telling you now, so listen up."

Ban leans over the bed till he's almost nose to nose with a startled Akabane. When he speaks his voice has turned quiet and lost its harshness, though none of its intensity. "This isn't the law of the jungle here. We're not enemies, not predators. I said I would take care of you and I mean it as much now as I did then. From now on if something's wrong, you _tell _me, damn it."

Akabane doesn't say anything, just lowers his dark eyes to the sheet.

"I mean it, Jackal. If I'm not allowed to be killed by anyone or anything else then neither are you." Ban reaches up and cups an alabaster cheek, stroking his thumb over the soft skin.

After a moment, Akabane hesitantly raises his eyes to meet his gaze. The wariness is still there but it's been joined by a twinge of disbelief that an equal, or perhaps a superior, would find him that interesting enough to bother concerning themselves with his welfare. Having once been in similar straits himself, Ban understands the novelty this dilemma poses for Jackal: no one has ever cared about his pain before, much less asked to share it.

Akabane moistens his lips to speak. "I suppose…that is a fair bargain."

"Damn right it is." Ban brushes back a few locks of limp midnight from Akabane's face. "And I'm in no mood to have to explain to Ginji that you bit the big one on my watch."

The smile returns, albeit tired. "Oh yes, poor Ginji-kun. He seems to take it rather hard when he hears of anyone's passing…"

"Yeah. So do us all a favor and spare him the waterworks."

They look at each other, one solemn and the other with sleepy intrigue. Akabane's smile is fleeting but genuine this time. "Then…I will try to recover as quickly as possible for both his and your benefit, Midou-kun."

Ban lets a small smile of his own surface. "You better. Otherwise who am I gonna have to kick around besides the monkey-trainer?"

Akabane yawns as his lover pulls up the covers and tucks them securely around him. "You do not like Fuyuki-san?" he asks innocently, knowing full well what an impertinent question it is.

"Don't get me started, Jackal. Don't get me started." Ban kisses Akabane twice, once on the lips and once on the forehead. "I'm goin' home now. No alphabetizing on the staff no matter how bad the food here sucks, you hear? Be good and I might come back and visit you again tomorrow."

"…I would like that, Midou-kun."

This time when they share a smile there is neither suspicion nor distrust tainting the moment, only a promise made and a vow to be kept. And so it shall be. For retrievers and transporters alike know well the value of persistence when it comes to the completion of duty.


	12. Whispers Part 1

Title: Whispers

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #17 – "kHz (kilohertz)"

Rating: R (violence, language)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor ones for the ending of the Platinum Arc.

Notes: Another limits-stretching theme...this one was rather tricky but I hope I did it justice. Split into two parts due to length.

Disclaimer: I own not the GBers. Pity.

Summary: Bad habits are hard to break. Particularly if they're Akabane's...

--

It starts as whispers, and ends in blood.

When Akabane wakes that morning he immediately knows something is off. He puts a hand to his forehead and winces slightly as he sits up in bed. There's the dull twinge of a budding headache that promises to make his day moderately uncomfortable at best. There is medicine in the bathroom cabinet he can take, but he doesn't bother with it as he sets about getting groomed and dressed. This isn't an average headache.

The craving is back.

It's been a while since his J's made their usual mark. Thanks to Midou-kun, he's learned to alter the depth of his cuts so that only the letter itself - without the regular spray of blood that accompanies it - mars the surface of an opponent's torso. If Akabane is particularly irritated, or an opponent is persistent, the J etches more visibly into the skin as a stern reminder for the lucky soul not to get in his way should their paths ever cross again. Since the inception of his new style he's only done this a handful of times. In most of his fights just the rending of clothes is sufficient enough warning.

However, word travels fast in the underworld. When news leaked out that the most feared _hakobiya_ in the business was actually letting his quarry escape relatively unharmed, it was widely believed a rumor at first. But rumors being rumors take on lives of their own, and it wasn't long before belief and evidence conspired to bring Akabane a little extra business he wasn't expecting. The last several weeks have been busy what with all the glory-seekers, thinking he's gone soft or lost his touch, waiting impatiently in line to take their whack at the Jackal.

As he finishes arranging his hat on his head Akabane wonders what sort of marks might be made on the opposition he will doubtless run into on today's job. Most of them are too boring for his tastes, so he's had to find creative ways of keeping them alive while also getting his point across to them that he is _not _someone to be toyed with. At first this game was interesting in its own way; having been so used to killing opponents on the spot it's a different change of pace to fight them without the usual fatalities. But with new changes come new frustrations, one of which is currently attempting to drill its way through the base of his skull.

Akabane stands in front of the mirror inspecting his appearance, breathing slowly, deeply, so as to foster his usual calmness and try to stem the headache before it grows worse. He's been good, he thinks. Surely he deserves a little treat for the admirable self-restraint he's practiced lately. Not being Dr. Jackal is harder than it looks.

An image of Midou-kun's frowning face swims in his mind's eye. Bad idea.

Sibilance threads its way through his head, tightening the pain's grip with a subtle twist of the screw. _The snake-master is no stranger to bloodshed, he will understand,_ it hisses reassuringly. Even if he is displeased at first he'll get over it eventually. He always does...

But Midou-kun promised to make things fun for him if he stayed faithful to his vow of abstinence. Thus far he has kept that promise. Should not Akabane also adhere to his as well? They are both professionals...

_I will just make a little cut, _he tells himself over the whispers' indignant grumbles. _Nothing lethal, just a scratch...or two, here and there. Enough to satisfy...then it will be all right again._ Soothed by that thought, Akabane lets his characteristic smile surface and feels more like himself again. Better.

He goes out to greet Midou-kun, who is having his breakfast on the couch. "Good morning."

His lover just grunts, still halfway through the limbo between sleep and full alertness. Midou-kun is not a morning person. Neither is Akabane, who prefers to sleep in more often than not, but if a job necessitates an early start, well, he makes the best of it anyway. He isn't offended by Midou-kun's less than articulate response, bending over slightly to plant a light kiss on his cheek. "Do you have a job today?"

Midou-kun chews the wad of cereal he's been munching and swallows it. "Yeah." He lets loose what is literally a jaw-cracking yawn and Akabane idly wonders whether or not he'll wind up with arthritis later in life.

"I thought there must be a reason for you being up this early." He sits down alongside Midou-kun to await the truck horn which will summon him downstairs. Mr. No-Brakes is a most reliable driver when it comes to punctuality. Akabane happens to glance over at one point and catches a glimpse of Midou-kun's eyes, which are rimmed with redness and appear somewhat bloodshot.

Red. Such a pretty color. The color of blood...

No. Don't think about that.

Akabane looks away, focusing his gaze on the blue river in a picture hanging on the wall. "I suppose you didn't get much sleep last night," he offers.

Another grunt comes from the other man. "Should've remembered the Get Backers hadda job today," he mumbles between mouthfuls of his food. "Wouldn't have spent the night banging you."

An amused chuckle comes from Akabane. His smile broadens at the memory of the previous night and he leans over and nuzzles Midou-kun's jaw. "But you do it so well." This close he can smell his lover's delicious scent, an earthy sensuality tinged with a hint of leftover sweat from their activities last night. His eyes drop down and notice a trail of thin red lines peeking out from underneath Midou-kun's bathrobe at the point where his neck and shoulder meet. Bite marks, he realizes. Apparently during their tryst he'd gotten carried away in his lust and had bitten his lover hard enough to draw blood, though not much.

_Yes. Yes._

Flavor imagined bursts upon his tongue and feeds the whispers which gorge upon those coppery memories. What did Midou-kun's blood taste like? _Oh sweet, so sweet, _the whispers hurry to agree.

Equally disturbed and titillated by those thoughts more than he cares to admit Akabane firmly steers his mind away from all topics involving blood and gives his imagination a picture of work to admire instead. Today's duty is a simple enough job but will require a certain degree of vigilance as a protection service has purportedly been hired to guard the item he will be transporting. Said service will undoubtedly be displeased upon learning of its transference without their permission. The potential of a fight is lurking and if the protectors are any good it will be a decidedly bloody one.

Drat it.

Akabane decides having a nibble before Mr. No-Brakes arrives will give him something to focus on. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, fixing a small sandwich for breakfast. When he goes to cut the bread he isn't watching where he's laying the knife – which is not one of his own – and accidentally nicks his index finger as he's slicing the bread. Though the glove has spared him most of the injury, a cut deep enough to summon blood is made and a few drops of red seep through it onto the countertop.

Akabane sighs and a slight wave of anticipation ripples through him. This is _not_ going to be a good day, he can tell.

Midou-kun speaks up from the couch. "Something wrong, Jackal?"

Akabane takes a damp cloth from its place by the sink and wipes up the blood spots. "It's nothing." He peels off the ruined glove and rinses his cut finger before draping the cloth back in its place.

"Didn't sound like nothing."

He comes back over to Midou-kun, drying his finger with a paper towel. "I nicked myself. It's nothing serious." Akabane smiles playfully at him and offers his hand. "Would you like to kiss it anyway and make it all better?"

Midou-kun snorts, but takes his hand and dutifully places his lips on the injury. The next thing Akabane knows his finger is being sucked into the other's mouth and a pair of blue eyes is daring him to push things to the next level. Being fashionably late amuses them both and it's a game sometimes to see how long they can dawdle before habitual tardiness borders on straight out rudeness.

The taunting pull of Midou-kun's warm, wet mouth on his finger sends a pleasant shiver down his arm, but it has an unintended effect as well: his darker desires, roused already by fresh blood, purr quietly in his ear as Midou-kun's tongue strokes over the tiny cut. _Taste the sweetness, snake-master, draw its succulence out with your venom,_ the rhythm seems to murmur. Akabane is temporarily mesmerized by the sight of that pink serpent lapping over the wound, flicking away the small ooze of red that reappears each time it pulls away –

Downstairs the curt tap of a semi-truck's horn interrupts the spell. Thank goodness for Maguruma.

Akabane yanks his finger away from Midou-kun and quickly stoops to give him a kiss goodbye. "I have to go now. Will I see you later tonight?"

Midou-kun is looking at him in an almost suspicious manner, but maybe it's just his imagination because the glance doesn't last but a second and then those blue eyes are back to their normal just-woken stupor. "Depends. It's supposed to be an easy job, but you know Hevn's definition of easy."

Akabane smiles at that. "I'm sure Hevn-san means well. Tell her hello for me then, and I hope you and Ginji-kun have a good day." He leans in for another quick kiss.

Midou-kun obliges and squeezes his shoulder for a moment, and when he says "You too, Jackal," Akabane knows he doesn't mean the usual pleasantries this time, he means _behave yourself and don't kill anybody today. _

He looks at Midou-kun, hoping that the answer reflected in his own gaze will be understood: _I will try. _And he will, because he is a professional and professionals such as him are always men of their word.

Before leaving the apartment he pauses, first to bandage his finger and retrieve a replacement glove for the one that was damaged, then to wrap his uneaten sandwich in some plastic wrap and tuck it into his coat pocket. He'll eat it on the trip.

Outside it's overcast. For once the weather forecasters are spot on in their predictions of threatening rain. Ignoring the nip of pain in his forehead Akabane glances up at the gunmetal grey sky and hears the twisted sibilance cycling inside once more.

"It's one of _those_ days," he says to Maguruma by way of greeting as he climbs into the passenger side of the truck.

Maguruma just grunts in response as he shifts into drive. They've worked with each other long enough to figure out that certain things are just better off not discussed in detail, though Gouzou does take pity on Akabane by flipping on the radio dial. They settle themselves in their respective places as noisy classic rock music fills the cab.

The wails of guitars and drums come close but not quite in drowning out the whispers.

--

"She's onto you, you know."

Akabane raises a brow in silent request for an elaboration on that statement. The drive so far has been uneventful so to pass the time they've turned to idle chatter to amuse themselves. Maguruma is a decent conversationalist and most people that don't know him would probably be surprised to learn that he is quite well-versed in many subjects. For all his rough appearance the man is as multifaceted as a gem given that he drives a truck for a living.

Gouzou almost smirks at him. "You know what I'm talking about. Lady Poison."

"What about her?"

"She's not blind, Akabane. She's aware of your shadowing her all the time."

"Mm."

"What I'd like to know is, how's that gonna sit with your boyfriend? You know they've got a history, right?"

Akabane looks at him. "How did you know?"

"Overheard somebody at that café mention something about it once. I didn't get the whole story but I gather it's something to do with them growing up together."

Akabane nods. Despite their penchant for bickering Midou-kun is very much the proprietary older brother towards Himiko-san, whom Akabane also has grown quite fond of. But not in the manner that Maguruma seems to be implying, and he hastens to set the record straight. "Midou-kun isn't worried. He knows I will continue to keep watch over Lady Poison's back when we are on duty."

"Ahh."

"Whatever made you think other dimensions existed between us?" With his headache silently ratcheting up the pain every other mile Akabane is not really in the mood for lengthy discussions, least of all ones that involve things he'd rather keep private, but he is genuinely curious.

It isn't the first time someone has implied a closer than usual relationship between himself and Himiko-san. They work together so often; perhaps because he tends to linger in the shadows when he's not fighting and allow her to do most of the talking while they are dealing with others, people assume that he is some sort of attendant to her. In a sense this is true – they are work partners and that is what partners do on a job, guard each other's back.

But there is another element to it. It's not something Akabane fully understands, much less is able to explain. He has no idea where it even came from or when it surfaced. Something in him is telling him to stay alert whenever Himiko-san is nearby. It's not that she can't defend herself – she is a most able fighter even though she cannot match him in speed or prowess – but all just the same he has decided to take these intuitions seriously, especially in regards to that peculiar curse she carries.

"Besides. She is too young for me, you know that," he quietly chides Maguruma.

The big man shrugs. "My sister eloped when she was sixteen."

Akabane makes a _tsk_ing sound. "Himiko-san is a lady. A _professional,_" he stresses ever so slightly.

"So are we," Maguruma says, his gaze shifting into narrowed focus as he spots something ahead on the road. "Looks like it's time to put the pedal to the metal. I love busting up the opposition's roadblocks."

The truck's speed increases and as the engine growls with lust for the road it's eating up so too do the whispers in Akabane's head gurgle with a dark glee. Part of him wants to say to Gouzou _no, let's stop and have a bit of fun first,_ and he knows that the other man would obligingly – if reluctantly - halt the truck without question, but Maguruma is obviously having fun himself and being sympathetic to such enjoyment of work Akabane has no wish to ruin anyone else's amusement, even if he isn't particularly interested in it himself.

And, he tells himself, temptation avoided is better than temptation accepted. At least, that is what someone he once knew would have said.

The whispers are not pleased. They flutter in his chest like ragged moths, demanding to know why he won't indulge when the offering is right there for the taking. Akabane wills them into stillness by taking his eyes off the road and staring at the GPS system console of Maguruma's truck, trying to mentally recite the details of their trip itinerary for idle refreshment.

When the semi rams through the surprised protection service's roadblock he tries _very_ hard not to wonder if there was anyone inside the vehicles, tries to prevent himself from imagining all the blood, the ruptured organs and crushed bones and snapped ligaments that might result from such an impact. Akabane compresses his lips together tightly as a spike of pain stabs behind his right eye.

Maybe he ought to have taken some of that medication this morning after all.

_So easy. You could have drunk your fill of death and you passed up such a golden opportunity._

Deep, slow breaths. In. Out. Think of Midou-kun. Won't he be pleased when he asks how Akabane's day went and Akabane is able to tell him _yes, Midou-kun, I was good, we met with the protection service but I didn't kill _or _fight them_? That's got to be worth a little extra pampering right there...

"Hello! What have we here?" he hears Maguruma say. Akabane looks to the rearview mirror on his side. The protection service has given chase – evidently they were not in any of the ruined vehicles. They are obviously upset by the transporters' resistance: the open windows of the car pulling up close are bristling with machine guns.

"I'll take care of this," Akabane assures Maguruma.

He presses the button lowering the window and cautiously peers outside. The man riding shotgun jerks the tip of his weapon at Akabane in a manner that clearly orders _pull over now. _To emphasize this point a warning shot is fired from one of the other guns, putting a quick burst of bullets over the top of the semi's trailer.

"I'm sorry," Akabane calls to the lead man. "We cannot do that."

The gunman's scowl deepens. He fixes his sights on Akabane's head and motions again with his other hand for the truck to stop. _Last warning,_ the gesture says.

_Oh, it _will _be your last warning. _Akabane shoves that thought to the back of his mind and looks at Maguruma. "They're going to shoot if we don't pull over."

"What do you want to do, Jackal?" Maguruma's tone is noncommittal – he'll go along with whatever his fellow transporters direct; he's just there to drive the vehicle.

_What I've always done,_ it's on the tip of Akabane's tongue to say, but he bites down on his lower lip before the words can exit his mouth. Midou-kun. Remember Midou-kun and his promise. Something inside him hisses and squirms restlessly in the wake of his indecision. "Can you outrun them?" he says after a moment's thought.

Gouzou laughs, a hearty sound that fills the cab with peculiar warmth. "Can I outrun 'em? Buckle your belt, Jackal."

Akabane looks back out the window – a sharp twist of pain slicing down the back of his neck as he does so; petty vengeance exacted in angry response to his denial – and sees the triggerman and his team aiming their weapons. It's a familiar sight given the nature of his work and it's almost always a prelude to further violence, which sets his blood simmering with a taut expectation. He edges back into his seat and obeys Maguruma's seatbelt edict.

The truck's gears crank down a notch, as if Maguruma is preparing to carry out the protection service's demand. Then abruptly the engine rumbles and Gouzou's changing shifts nearly as swiftly and easily as Akabane produces knives, and the semi rockets forward onto the stretch of highway.

Machine guns clatter in the distance. Most of the bullets ping off of the trailer but a few zip past the cab, and one bounces off the door of the passenger side. Akabane adjusts his position in the seat, partly out of a healthy concern for his own safety regarding ricocheting bullets but mainly because the hiss of gunfire coincides with that of the inner hiss for blood and makes him eager for action. Akabane cares nothing for guns – indeed, he believes they are crude and inelegant weapons at best, even if they are efficient – but the hailstorm they are capable of producing tends to generate a lot of blood, and blood is what he _craves._

His temples throb and he lifts a gloved hand to rub at one, but aside from this shows no outward expression of his ailing. He is a professional. He has weathered far worse than this before. He will get through this day as well. Perhaps he will even joke about it with Midou-kun. There, that's better. Midou-kun. Midou-kun makes him laugh and amuses him with his wicked sense of humor and colorful expressions –

Gunfire interrupts Akabane's thoughts. The protection service has caught up with them again.

"Persistent little bastards, aren't they?" Maguruma says wryly.

"They're only doing their jobs. They are professionals too," Akabane gently reminds him.

"Yeah, well they can do it a little less efficiently. Betty doesn't like it when she gets shot at," Gouzou says, affectionately caressing the steering wheel. He maneuvers closer inside the inner lane, keeping his side of the truck protected by the mountains so that the protection service people can't disable their prey's driver in their bid to stop the vehicle. This doesn't give them much room to jockey around, however, but at least it keeps the attack focused on one area, which is easier to deal with.

Another car comes screaming down the lane and pulls even with Akabane's side. A burst of gunfire would have caused the passenger side window to cave in if it hadn't already been open. As it is, Akabane feels the hot kiss of lead barely brushing past his cheek when the bullets lodge themselves in the truck's padded interior.

"Sons of bitches! Hold on, Jackal!" Maguruma floors the gas pedal and the truck surges ahead, the protection service not far behind. Persistent, indeed. Akabane hesitates, somewhat shakily raises his fingertips to the side of his face, certain that the dampness he feels trickling down his skin will have a distinctly red shade to it. He's relieved when the glove comes away still retaining its pristine whiteness, albeit slightly moist. Just sweat.

_Which mixes ever so nicely with blood –_

Akabane squeezes his eyes shut tightly. Midou-kun. Midou-kun. Midou-kun. The pulsing in his forehead clenches.

Clearly something has to be done here before things get any worse. He opens his eyes and looks at Maguruma. "The next time they catch up to us, let them stay level with you," he explains as he unfastens his seatbelt. "I'll put a stop to their behavior."

Gouzou nods, tracking their enemies' progress with one eye on his mirrors and the other fixated on the road he's navigating. When the protection service has regrouped their charge he notifies Akabane. "Two cars, coming up fast."

Akabane watches the attackers close in. Just as the lead man is about to give the signal to fire he leans halfway out of the window, one hand clasping his hat in place, and casts his other arm at the first car. Four scalpels eject from his hand at the same speed and with the same force as bullets. They puncture each tire and the imbalance sends the car screeching across the asphalt as its driver tries to regain control. The second car is forced to fall back lest the two collide, but not for long. Driver number one skids off the side of the road and smashes into the guardrail, clearing the path for Two to come barreling alongside the truck.

Four more scalpels produce similar results. Akabane sits back in his seat, adjusting his hat and tucking his windswept hair back behind one ear. "Are there any more?"

"Could be. I know I saw at least three cars back there by the roadblock," Maguruma replies. He hasn't eased any on the gas pedal.

"Then the third probably isn't lagging. Do you have any aspirin in here, by any chance?"

"Glove compartment in front of you. Bottled water's in the cooler, back of the cab."

"Thank you."

Akabane searches out the water first, getting up from his seat and retrieving a chilled beverage. He sits back down and tucks it between his legs momentarily while fetching the aspirin from the glove compartment. The cap of the medicine bottle twists off neatly and he automatically tips two tablets into his palm; after a few seconds of thought he adds two more. Just in case. Akabane pops the pills into his mouth – their acidic flavor gives him something else besides the hissing thoughts in his mind to focus on – and puts the lid back on the bottle before returning it to its cubby. As he's opening his water he has an inspiration, and crunches down on the aspirin, breaking them up.

Now he'll have a fresh distraction to drive him up the wall. But better that than risk his lover's ire…

_...but he likes blood too...! _

Akabane tips the bottle to his lips and washes the revolting mash down his throat with a generous swallow. He recaps it and places it in a cup-holder on the dash. "Anything yet?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. I thought that the Kanzakis were higher-rated than that."

"Eh, you can't trust whatever comes out of Markus's mouth these days. He'll tell you one thing and it ends up being completely different."

Secretly Akabane is pleased by this information. He hopes that this is the last they'll see of the infamous protection service. But when his senses detect a blood trail, they're seldom wrong in their tracking...

Maguruma looks up at the sky, which has darkened to a sullen blue-grey. "Gonna storm soon," he says.

Akabane studies the heavy clouds. He can taste bitterness that's more blood-based than aspirin-flavored. A few minutes later a jagged bolt of lightning splits the sky apart. Its cleaving coincides with the return of his migraine, which vacillates between virulent hissing and buzzing whispers, occasionally punctuated with a slightly louder growl or two.

"Yes, it is," he replies softly.

--

Afternoon comes and with it, the storm bursts open over everything as if punishing the world for some unnamed sin. The downpour makes it increasingly difficult for Maguruma to drive in spite of his vehicular mastery, so they decide to stop for lunch at a small restaurant off of the main highway. Maguruma makes sure to park where the truck won't be spotted by unwelcome visitors, yet they'll still be able to keep an eye on it from their vantage point inside the building.

Akabane retrieves the bottle of aspirin from the glove compartment once more. The ache that feels as if it's warping the entire contents of his head into a pretzel tells him he's going to need it again shortly.

The restaurant is dingy-looking but clean enough. The clientele, what there are of them, are composed mostly of similar travelers, truckers who were caught unawares by the bad weather and decided to wait out the storm. They choose a spot that keeps their backs protected, where they can look out the window and see Maguruma's truck. An older waitress arrives to bring them water glasses and take their orders and when she leaves Akabane brings out the aspirin bottle from his coat pocket. He opens it and tips two more tablets into his hand. "You need a better supply kit in your truck," he tells Gouzou solicitously after washing the pills down with water.

"Didn't figure you for the type to get sick often," the other man says. He glances around the room. It's not crowded but there are a few people milling about some of the nearer tables. Quietly, so as not to have anyone overhear their conversation, he says, "You okay there? You look a little green around the gills."

Akabane pulls his hat down lower over his face. He feels at least as green but sees no need to let Maguruma know that. "I'm fine. How much longer?" he asks, changing the subject back to their mission.

"Couple hours, give or take a few side roads. And whether or not we run into any more interruptions from our friends."

Akabane closes his eyes against the drumbeat pounding in his skull. A couple of hours. He can hold out that long, surely. He's come this far without spilling any blood...

...but there is still another half of the day to go...

Midou-kun, Midou-kun, Midou-kun, Midou-kun, Midou-kun... It's become a lifeline, a soothing repetition to invoke whenever temptation threatens. He lifts both hands to delicately massage the sides of his temples in a vain attempt to dispel some of the discomfort.

Sensing how miserable he's feeling right now Maguruma attempts to offer comfort. "Maybe it would just be better if you knocked out a few J's, blow off some steam...you know?"

Oh, bless the dear man for trying, really. But that's the absolute _last_ thing he needs at this point if he's to remain faithful to his promise. Akabane opens his eyes and smiles reassuringly at him, though the corners of his mouth are tight with pain. "No. I don't want to be responsible for any further delays. We've lost enough time with this weather as it is."

Gouzou nods. "How long's it been anyway?"

Akabane has to think for a second. "About six months," he murmurs.

Gouzou whistles under his breath. "That long, eh? That's gotta be some sort of record for you, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Akabane says, shrugging.

"So what do you do when it gets bad like this?"

"Normally it isn't this bad." Akabane pauses, noting the way the raindrops bounce off the window in a rupture of liquid when they impact. "Perhaps it's the weather that's affecting it." But he knows that isn't the case. He's gone through periods of withdrawal before and been fine; the difference is in what prompts those withdrawals, and like any true hunter knows the call of blood is a force to be reckoned with.

A noisy cloudburst of rain preempts any further conversation and they sit silently for several minutes, watching the world outside drown. Akabane rests his head on his forearms and closes his eyes again. Not for the first time is he thankful for his hat, which blocks out most of the outer stimuli that aggravates his misery. Exposure to people and all their foibles for prolonged periods can sometimes make him feel as though his nerves are being rubbed raw by sandpaper. The games one must constantly engage in for the sake of appearances...

One of the reasons he enjoys being around the Get Backers so often is the dispensation with these ridiculous tactics. Whatever differences may lie between him and them at times, the Get Backers are always true to themselves and are likewise as honest with others. One never need worry about where that person stands with either Ginji-kun or Midou-kun: when the former says he cares about you he means it forever and if the latter _doesn't _like you he won't hesitate to volunteer his opinion through either fist or mouth, even if this bluntness is costly in the longer run. Even if he doesn't always understand or agree with it, one thing Akabane admires greatly is strength of character and these two are fairly overflowing with it. Seldom has he met such worthwhile and fascinating individuals.

Midou-kun especially understands this. Whereas Ginji-kun will happily offer up his heart on a plate to anyone who so much as looks sweetly at him, Midou-kun is far more wary about human interaction. Though they've rarely discussed such subjects, Akabane senses his lover is all too familiar with the darker aspects of humanity and can readily sympathize; in his own travels he's encountered plenty of that evidence – same shit, different day, as Midou-kun would tell him.

_Midou-kun...I wish I were home with you right now instead of carrying out this dull job... _Akabane impulsively decides that tomorrow will be a 'playing hooky' kind of day, one of relaxation where they will do nothing but lounge around in their pajamas, curled up together on the couch snacking on their favorite foods and watching old movies. Perhaps they could chat more in-depth about their shared experiences also, and make love a few times as well. Or maybe they could invite Ginji-kun over and spend the better part of the day playing on the battlefield. These thoughts cheer him and the pain actually recedes some.

The waitress arrives with their food. Maguruma wastes no time digging in. He's a big man and has a big appetite to match. Conversely, Akabane eats only what he has need for and observes a moderate diet in all culinary consumptions. But thanks to his indisposition he has very little appetite today, and so manages to finish only half of the soup he ordered.

Maguruma gets up from his seat, picking up the check as he goes. "I'll take care of this and we'll get going."

"All right. I'm going to see if there's a lavatory in this place and then I'll meet you outside."

Maguruma nods and leaves to pay the bill. Akabane wanders toward the back of the restaurant in search of washroom facilities. Halfway there he notices a little girl, about six or seven years old perhaps, struggling with the wrapper of a bandage. She's skinned her knee.

He stops and kneels by her table. "Would you like some help with that?"

She looks up at him and sniffles. She's a lovely child, big brown eyes like Ginji-kun's and straight dark hair braided into pigtails. "I fell down," she says in a wavering voice, pointing at her injury. It's not bleeding any more but the skin is abraded in a few places.

"That happens sometimes," Akabane replies gently. He offers his hand and the little girl gives him the bandage. He removes it from its wrapper and checks the wound before applying it. "Has it been cleaned off?"

"Mommy did that," the little girl says.

"Good. Hold still for just a moment, please..." She obediently holds a pose while Akabane carefully fixes the bandage to her knee. "There you go."

A voice speaks behind them. "What do we say, Aya-chan?"

The little girl looks up at her returning parent, and then smiles shyly at Akabane. "Thank you," she chirps.

He smiles back at her. "You're welcome."

As he rises the young mother also offers her thanks for his assistance. "You're very good with children. Are you a doctor?" she asks.

Akabane pauses. "One does not necessarily need to be a doctor to know how to treat a scraped knee," he says modestly.

Aya-chan's mother smiles. "That's true."

He catches her gaze wandering to his hands and though they're sheathed by his gloves he anticipates the question that will be a prelude to another; it's not the first time and it won't be the last that someone, usually of the feminine persuasion, has inquired about his marital status. Most of the time he patiently indulges the asker's curiosity, but a sudden jab of pain reminds him that now is not the time for chitchat. Besides, he is on duty. "I apologize for my hasty departure, but I must be going if I'm to make my delivery on schedule. Do take care in this frightful weather."

The young mother and her daughter thank him once more and bid him a pleasant trip, and Akabane sets off again on his original mission.

Unfortunately the restroom doesn't appear to be as tidy as the rest of the building, but he hadn't planned on using any of the facilities so it doesn't matter. Instead Akabane checks the room to be sure he's alone and then withdraws the aspirin and bottled water from his coat pocket. Eating aspirin like candy isn't the best thing perhaps, but adverse effects don't really concern him and at this point he needs all the support he can get. He opens the bottle and tips several more pills into his mouth, washing them down with several swallows of still-cool water.

His stomach doesn't take kindly to the addition of extra contents. A mild queasiness works in conjunction with the headache and creates a painful wave of dizziness which, while not seriously threatening, throws him off balance enough that he has to lean against the wall for a second to get his bearings. Akabane can't help shivering from the small chill coursing through him and frowning, grits his teeth. He will not make a fool of himself by being sick now.

He hears the door to the washroom swing open and a gravelly voice suddenly rasps near his ear. "Well, well, what have we here? I wondered when you'd get tired of your boyfriend and come looking for me."

Akabane stifles a sigh. That's the trouble with these kinds of highway stops; one never knows what sort of dregs one might run into at them. He takes a deep breath and calmly turns to face his would-be assailant with an icy smile. "Oh, but I'm afraid you're mistaken. He's expecting me shortly, and he's _very_ jealous." Sometimes playing along with them is an amusing way to defuse the situation – most of these types he's encountered expect him to react with angry defensiveness rather than coy humor.

Unfortunately luck is not with Akabane today as his pursuer is of the more persistent type. The brute grins and forces him back against the wall. His grubby hands reach for Akabane's waist and he bats ineffectually at them.

"Come on, pretty. It won't hurt – much." The tobacco-stained smile clearly communicates that the man will enjoy it all the more if it does.

"I said no thank you." Akabane tries to push the man away again but finds himself being roughly turned around and herded in the direction of one of the stalls. He struggles and pain explodes through his head in a starburst of color that momentarily blots out his vision.

"Be a good boy now and I won't have to hit you again," his attacker laughs as he forces his prey to bend over the toilet.

Akabane is not happy. The back of his head feels like it's been slammed by a hammer and fresh nausea is welling up in his stomach, and the whole room feels like he's been tossed onto some sort of demented carousel that's spinning at double time. He briefly considers emptying his lunch into the bowl before him, but another problem quickly catches his attention: the brute is attempting to remove the lower portion of his clothing.

_One day, Midou-kun, I'm sure we'll both look back on this and laugh...but right now it's time to be serious._

Akabane abruptly goes limp in the man's hold. "Ahh, gonna relax and enjoy it, eh?" the man chuckles, shoving the length of trenchcoat out of his way as his fingers claw at the belt on Akabane's trousers. "Too bad. I was kinda hoping you'd fight me a little more – " He gags suddenly as Akabane's elbow buries itself in his gut.

The man falls backwards and Akabane moves lightning-quick, whipping around and driving the heel of his boot into his jaw. He hears the crack of teeth jarring together and a river of blood erupts from the man's mouth as he measures his length across the floor. Akabane gets up and the man does likewise, his face nearly as red as the blood that's streaming out of his mouth.

"You fucking little prick!" He charges Akabane like a bull driven mad by the banner of a challenge, but he proves to be no such for his opponent. The _snick_ of emerging blades is too quiet to be heard amidst the stomping of boots, and it's only at the very last second that Akabane remembers to turn his knives to one side so that they etch only an outline of the letter instead of piercing it all the way through the torso.

Stunned by the surprise attack the bigger man falls back and looks down at his ripped shirt, at the bright red seeping through his skin and dribbling onto the tile. A terrible recognition dawns in his eyes and it's one that Akabane knows well – that heart-stopping moment of terror when an enemy realizes he's just made the unwanted acquaintance of the notorious Doctor Jackal.

Two pairs of eyes, one blackened by fear and the other a frigid purple, meet in the frozen stillness. Akabane takes a step forward, brandishing his scalpel-studded fist with lethal intent. He isn't smiling, and there's a flash of fang as he speaks. "Leave, before I finish the job," he hisses.

The assailant doesn't need to be told twice. Blubbering like a baby he scrambles out the door.

Akabane lets his knives recede and slumps against the wall. The nausea hits him full strength and he makes his own dash for the toilet again, having just enough presence of mind to pull his hair back from his face as he rids himself of the soup and aspirin he'd consumed earlier. There isn't much but what comes out burns his throat every inch of the way.

He shudders for several minutes, riding out the dry heaves that finish this vomiting spell, praying that he won't pass out from the agony drumming up a dance in his head. He hears heavy breathing and realizes he's speaking out loud. "Midou-kun...Midou-kun...Midou-kun..."

He'd wanted _so badly_ to slice that filth into bloody slabs of meat...!

_Then why didn't you, you fool? Not as if your lover wouldn't have understood. He's done similar if not worse things himself; he carries the blood-taint as well. Maybe you_ are _getting daft in the head, Jackal...and you know what happens to those that are _weak...

_But I want...I want..._ "...I want to go home..." Akabane hears himself whisper softly. He hurts so much right now...

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the cool bowl. Oh, that feels nice. Smooth and chilling. He makes a mental note to ask Gouzou if he's got an icepack somewhere in that truck of his...

Gouzou. He'll be wondering what's happened to his partner. And Akabane had promised not to cause any further delays...

Damn it.

Akabane wills his breathing into a more controlled rhythm. He ignores the protesting of his aching body as he carefully gets up and forces the pain into its own separate compartment, folding and spindling it into a cramped corner and silently commanding it to remain there, out of his way. He is a professional, the very best at what he does. He will _not_ be defeated in his mission – even if it is an unimpressive one like this.

He inspects his clothing for bloodstains. There are none. He removes his gloves, tucking them into an inside breast pocket of his coat, and goes to the sink. He rinses his face and then his mouth with water several times, all the while silently chanting both Midou-kun's and Ginji-kun's names like magical charms to ward off further ill fortune. He takes a paper towel and blots his face dry with it.

The towel is discarded in a wastebasket and the gloves go back on. Akabane tidies his rumpled clothing, which fortunately was not damaged by the over-amorous suitor. He checks his hat, tilts it on his head just so, and studies his reflection through the slit in the brim. Better.

He pockets the bottle of aspirin and the bottle of water, both still sitting on the sink, without making further use of either one. Mere aspirin will do him no good now, not with the migraine having escalated into a full-blown hurricane inside his head.

Akabane gives his reflection one last glance and leaves the restroom. No one in the restaurant appears visibly alarmed by his appearance, so the thug evidently escaped notice when he was fleeing.

Maguruma is waiting in the lobby. His eyebrow lifts somewhat as if he's going to ask the inevitable question and Akabane cuts him off with a terse, "Let's go," as he stalks outside to where the truck awaits.

--

Continue To Part 2


	13. Whispers Part 2

Title: Whispers  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #17 – "kHz (kilohertz)"

Rating: R (violence, language)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor ones for the ending of the Platinum Arc.

Notes: Another limits-stretching theme…this one was rather tricky but I hope I did it justice. Due to the length of this fic I'm splitting it into two parts. It and previous 30k themes can be found on my website and at I own not the GBers. Pity.  
Summary: Bad habits are hard to break. Particularly if they're Akabane's…

--

It starts as whispers, and ends in blood.

When Akabane wakes that morning he immediately knows something is off. He puts a hand to his forehead and winces slightly as he sits up in bed. There's the dull twinge of a budding headache that promises to make his day moderately uncomfortable at best. There is medicine in the bathroom cabinet he can take, but he doesn't bother with it as he sets about getting groomed and dressed. This isn't an average headache.

The craving is back.

It's been a while since his J's made their usual mark. Thanks to Midou-kun, he's learned to alter the depth of his cuts so that only the letter itself - without the regular spray of blood that accompanies it - mars the surface of an opponent's torso. If Akabane is particularly irritated, or an opponent is persistent, the J etches more visibly into the skin as a stern reminder for the lucky soul not to get in his way should their paths ever cross again. Since the inception of his new style he's only done this a handful of times. In most of his fights just the rending of clothes is sufficient enough warning.

However, word travels fast in the underworld. When news leaked out that the most feared _hakobiya_ in the business was actually letting his quarry escape relatively unharmed, it was widely believed a rumor at first. But rumors being rumors take on lives of their own, and it wasn't long before belief and evidence conspired to bring Akabane a little extra business he wasn't expecting. The last several weeks have been busy what with all the glory-seekers, thinking he's gone soft or lost his touch, waiting impatiently in line to take their whack at the Jackal.

As he finishes arranging his hat on his head Akabane wonders what sort of marks might be made on the opposition he will doubtless run into on today's job. Most of them are too boring for his tastes, so he's had to find creative ways of keeping them alive while also getting his point across to them that he is _not_ someone to be toyed with. At first this game was interesting in its own way; having been so used to killing opponents on the spot it's a different change of pace to fight them without the usual fatalities. But with new changes come new frustrations, one of which is currently attempting to drill its way through the base of his skull.

Akabane stands in front of the mirror inspecting his appearance, breathing slowly, deeply, so as to foster his usual calmness and try to stem the headache before it grows worse. He's been good, he thinks. Surely he deserves a little treat for the admirable self-restraint he's practiced lately. Not being Dr. Jackal is harder than it looks.

An image of Midou-kun's frowning face swims in his mind's eye. Bad idea.

Sibilance threads its way through his head, tightening the pain's grip with a subtle twist of the screw. _The snake-master is no stranger to bloodshed, he will understand,_ it hisses reassuringly. Even if he is displeased at first he'll get over it eventually. He always does…

But Midou-kun promised to make things fun for him if he stayed faithful to his vow of abstinence. Thus far he has kept that promise. Should not Akabane also adhere to his as well? They are both professionals…

_I will just make a little cut,_ he tells himself over the whispers' indignant grumbles. _Nothing lethal, just a scratch…or two, here and there. Enough to satisfy…then it will be all right again._ Soothed by that thought, Akabane lets his characteristic smile surface and feels more like himself again. Better.

He goes out to greet Midou-kun, who is having his breakfast on the couch. "Good morning."

His lover just grunts, still halfway through the limbo between sleep and full alertness. Midou-kun is not a morning person. Neither is Akabane, who prefers to sleep in more often than not, but if a job necessitates an early start, well, he makes the best of it anyway. He isn't offended by Midou-kun's less than articulate response, bending over slightly to plant a light kiss on his cheek. "Do you have a job today?"

Midou-kun chews the wad of cereal he's been munching and swallows it. "Yeah." He lets loose what is literally a jaw-cracking yawn and Akabane idly wonders whether or not he'll wind up with arthritis later in life.

"I thought there must be a reason for you being up this early." He sits down alongside Midou-kun to await the truck horn which will summon him downstairs. Mr. No-Brakes is a most reliable driver when it comes to punctuality. Akabane happens to glance over at one point and catches a glimpse of Midou-kun's eyes, which are rimmed with redness and appear somewhat bloodshot.

Red. Such a pretty color. The color of blood…

No. Don't think about that.

Akabane looks away, focusing his gaze on the blue river in a picture hanging on the wall. "I suppose you didn't get much sleep last night," he offers.

Another grunt comes from the other man. "Should've remembered the Get Backers hadda job today," he mumbles between mouthfuls of his food. "Wouldn't have spent the night banging you."

An amused chuckle comes from Akabane. His smile broadens at the memory of the previous night and he leans over and nuzzles Midou-kun's jaw. "But you do it so well." This close he can smell his lover's delicious scent, an earthy sensuality tinged with a hint of leftover sweat from their activities last night. His eyes drop down and notice a trail of thin red lines peeking out from underneath Midou-kun's bathrobe at the point where his neck and shoulder meet. Bite marks, he realizes. Apparently during their tryst he'd gotten carried away in his lust and had bitten his lover hard enough to draw blood, though not much.

_Yes. Yes._

Flavor imagined bursts upon his tongue and feeds the whispers which gorge upon those coppery memories. What did Midou-kun's blood taste like? _Oh sweet, so sweet,_ the whispers hurry to agree.

Equally disturbed and titillated by those thoughts more than he cares to admit Akabane firmly steers his mind away from all topics involving blood and gives his imagination a picture of work to admire instead. Today's duty is a simple enough job but will require a certain degree of vigilance as a protection service has purportedly been hired to guard the item he will be transporting. Said service will undoubtedly be displeased upon learning of its transference without their permission. The potential of a fight is lurking and if the protectors are any good it will be a decidedly bloody one.

Drat it.

Akabane decides having a nibble before Mr. No-Brakes arrives will give him something to focus on. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, fixing a small sandwich for breakfast. When he goes to cut the bread he isn't watching where he's laying the knife – which is not one of his own – and accidentally nicks his index finger as he's slicing the bread. Though the glove has spared him most of the injury, a cut deep enough to summon blood is made and a few drops of red seep through it onto the countertop.

Akabane sighs and a slight wave of anticipation ripples through him. This is _not_ going to be a good day, he can tell.

Midou-kun speaks up from the couch. "Something wrong, Jackal?"

Akabane takes a damp cloth from its place by the sink and wipes up the blood spots. "It's nothing." He peels off the ruined glove and rinses his cut finger before draping the cloth back in its place.

"Didn't sound like nothing."

He comes back over to Midou-kun, drying his finger with a paper towel. "I nicked myself. It's nothing serious." Akabane smiles playfully at him and offers his hand. "Would you like to kiss it anyway and make it all better?"

Midou-kun snorts, but takes his hand and dutifully places his lips on the injury. The next thing Akabane knows his finger is being sucked into the other's mouth and a pair of blue eyes is daring him to push things to the next level. Being fashionably late amuses them both and it's a game sometimes to see how long they can dawdle before habitual tardiness borders on straight out rudeness.

The taunting pull of Midou-kun's warm, wet mouth on his finger sends a pleasant shiver down his arm, but it has an unintended effect as well: his darker desires, roused already by fresh blood, purr quietly in his ear as Midou-kun's tongue strokes over the tiny cut. _Taste the sweetness, snake-master, draw its succulence out with your venom,_ the rhythm seems to murmur. Akabane is temporarily mesmerized by the sight of that pink serpent lapping over the wound, flicking away the small ooze of red that reappears each time it pulls away –

Downstairs the curt tap of a semi-truck's horn interrupts the spell. Thank goodness for Maguruma.

Akabane yanks his finger away from Midou-kun and quickly stoops to give him a kiss goodbye. "I have to go now. Will I see you later tonight?"

Midou-kun is looking at him in an almost suspicious manner, but maybe it's just his imagination because the glance doesn't last but a second and then those blue eyes are back to their normal just-woken stupor. "Depends. It's supposed to be an easy job, but you know Hevn's definition of easy."

Akabane smiles at that. "I'm sure Hevn-san means well. Tell her hello for me then, and I hope you and Ginji-kun have a good day." He leans in for another quick kiss.

Midou-kun obliges and squeezes his shoulder for a moment, and when he says "You too, Jackal," Akabane knows he doesn't mean the usual pleasantries this time, he means _behave yourself and don't kill anybody today_.

He looks at Midou-kun, hoping that the answer reflected in his own gaze will be understood: _I will try._ And he will, because he is a professional and professionals such as him are always men of their word.

Before leaving the apartment he pauses, first to bandage his finger and retrieve a replacement glove for the one that was damaged, then to wrap his uneaten sandwich in some plastic wrap and tuck it into his coat pocket. He'll eat it on the trip.

Outside it's overcast. For once the weather forecasters are spot on in their predictions of threatening rain. Ignoring the nip of pain in his forehead Akabane glances up at the gunmetal grey sky and hears the twisted sibilance cycling inside once more.

"It's one of _those_ days," he says to Maguruma by way of greeting as he climbs into the passenger side of the truck.

Maguruma just grunts in response as he shifts into drive. They've worked with each other long enough to figure out that certain things are just better off not discussed in detail, though Gouzou does take pity on Akabane by flipping on the radio dial. They settle themselves in their respective places as noisy classic rock music fills the cab.

The wails of guitars and drums come close but not quite in drowning out the whispers.

--

"She's onto you, you know."

Akabane raises a brow in silent request for an elaboration on that statement. The drive so far has been uneventful so to pass the time they've turned to idle chatter to amuse themselves. Maguruma is a decent conversationalist and most people that don't know him would probably be surprised to learn that he is quite well-versed in many subjects. For all his rough appearance the man is as multifaceted as a gem given that he drives a truck for a living.

Gouzou almost smirks at him. "You know what I'm talking about. Lady Poison."

"What about her?"

"She's not blind, Akabane. She's aware of your shadowing her all the time."

"Mm."

"What I'd like to know is, how's that gonna sit with your boyfriend? You know they've got a history, right?"

Akabane looks at him. "How did you know?"

"Overheard somebody at that café mention something about it once. I didn't get the whole story but I gather it's something to do with them growing up together."

Akabane nods. Despite their penchant for bickering Midou-kun is very much the proprietary older brother towards Himiko-san, whom Akabane also has grown quite fond of. But not in the manner that Maguruma seems to be implying, and he hastens to set the record straight. "Midou-kun isn't worried. He knows I will continue to keep watch over Lady Poison's back when we are on duty."

"Ahh."

"Whatever made you think other dimensions existed between us?" With his headache silently ratcheting up the pain every other mile Akabane is not really in the mood for lengthy discussions, least of all ones that involve things he'd rather keep private, but he is genuinely curious.

It isn't the first time someone has implied a closer than usual relationship between himself and Himiko-san. They work together so often; perhaps because he tends to linger in the shadows when he's not fighting and allow her to do most of the talking while they are dealing with others, people assume that he is some sort of attendant to her. In a sense this is true – they are work partners and that is what partners do on a job, guard each other's back.

But there is another element to it. It's not something Akabane fully understands, much less is able to explain. He has no idea where it even came from or when it surfaced. Something in him is telling him to stay alert whenever Himiko-san is nearby. It's not that she can't defend herself – she is a most able fighter even though she cannot match him in speed or prowess – but all just the same he has decided to take these intuitions seriously, especially in regards to that peculiar curse she carries.

"Besides. She is too young for me, you know that," he quietly chides Maguruma.

The big man shrugs. "My sister eloped when she was sixteen."

Akabane makes a _tsk_ing sound. "Himiko-san is a lady. A _professional,_" he stresses ever so slightly.

"So are we," Maguruma says, his gaze shifting into narrowed focus as he spots something ahead on the road. "Looks like it's time to put the pedal to the metal. I love busting up the opposition's roadblocks."

The truck's speed increases and as the engine growls with lust for the road it's eating up so too do the whispers in Akabane's head gurgle with a dark glee. Part of him wants to say to Gouzou _no, let's stop and have a bit of fun first,_ and he knows that the other man would obligingly – if reluctantly - halt the truck without question, but Maguruma is obviously having fun himself and being sympathetic to such enjoyment of work Akabane has no wish to ruin anyone else's amusement, even if he isn't particularly interested in it himself.

And, he tells himself, temptation avoided is better than temptation accepted. At least, that is what someone he once knew would have said.

The whispers are not pleased. They flutter in his chest like ragged moths, demanding to know why he won't indulge when the offering is right there for the taking. Akabane wills them into stillness by taking his eyes off the road and staring at the GPS system console of Maguruma's truck, trying to mentally recite the details of their trip itinerary for idle refreshment.

When the semi rams through the surprised protection service's roadblock he tries _very_ hard not to wonder if there was anyone inside the vehicles, tries to prevent himself from imagining all the blood, the ruptured organs and crushed bones and snapped ligaments that might result from such an impact. Akabane compresses his lips together tightly as a spike of pain stabs behind his right eye.

Maybe he ought to have taken some of that medication this morning after all.

_So easy. You could have drunk your fill of death and you passed up such a golden opportunity._

Deep, slow breaths. In. Out. Think of Midou-kun. Won't he be pleased when he asks how Akabane's day went and Akabane is able to tell him _yes, Midou-kun, I was good, we met with the protection service but I didn't kill_ or _fight them_? That's got to be worth a little extra pampering right there…

"Hello! What have we here?" he hears Maguruma say. Akabane looks to the rearview mirror on his side. The protection service has given chase – evidently they were not in any of the ruined vehicles. They are obviously upset by the transporters' resistance: the open windows of the car pulling up close are bristling with machine guns.

"I'll take care of this," Akabane assures Maguruma.

He presses the button lowering the window and cautiously peers outside. The man riding shotgun jerks the tip of his weapon at Akabane in a manner that clearly orders _pull over now._ To emphasize this point a warning shot is fired from one of the other guns, putting a quick burst of bullets over the top of the semi's trailer.

"I'm sorry," Akabane calls to the lead man. "We cannot do that."

The gunman's scowl deepens. He fixes his sights on Akabane's head and motions again with his other hand for the truck to stop. _Last warning,_ the gesture says.

_Oh, it_ will _be your last warning_. Akabane shoves that thought to the back of his mind and looks at Maguruma. "They're going to shoot if we don't pull over."

"What do you want to do, Jackal?" Maguruma's tone is noncommittal – he'll go along with whatever his fellow transporters direct; he's just there to drive the vehicle.

_What I've always done,_ it's on the tip of Akabane's tongue to say, but he bites down on his lower lip before the words can exit his mouth. Midou-kun. Remember Midou-kun and his promise. Something inside him hisses and squirms restlessly in the wake of his indecision. "Can you outrun them?" he says after a moment's thought.

Gouzou laughs, a hearty sound that fills the cab with peculiar warmth. "Can I outrun 'em? Buckle your belt, Jackal."

Akabane looks back out the window – a sharp twist of pain slicing down the back of his neck as he does so; petty vengeance exacted in angry response to his denial – and sees the triggerman and his team aiming their weapons. It's a familiar sight given the nature of his work and it's almost always a prelude to further violence, which sets his blood simmering with a taut expectation. He edges back into his seat and obeys Maguruma's seatbelt edict.

The truck's gears crank down a notch, as if Maguruma is preparing to carry out the protection service's demand. Then abruptly the engine rumbles and Gouzou's changing shifts nearly as swiftly and easily as Akabane produces knives, and the semi rockets forward onto the stretch of highway.

Machine guns clatter in the distance. Most of the bullets ping off of the trailer but a few zip past the cab, and one bounces off the door of the passenger side. Akabane adjusts his position in the seat, partly out of a healthy concern for his own safety regarding ricocheting bullets but mainly because the hiss of gunfire coincides with that of the inner hiss for blood and makes him eager for action. Akabane cares nothing for guns – indeed, he believes they are crude and inelegant weapons at best, even if they are efficient – but the hailstorm they are capable of producing tends to generate a lot of blood, and blood is what he _craves._

His temples throb and he lifts a gloved hand to rub at one, but aside from this shows no outward expression of his ailing. He is a professional. He has weathered far worse than this before. He will get through this day as well. Perhaps he will even joke about it with Midou-kun. There, that's better. Midou-kun. Midou-kun makes him laugh and amuses him with his wicked sense of humor and colorful expressions –

Gunfire interrupts Akabane's thoughts. The protection service has caught up with them again.

"Persistent little bastards, aren't they?" Maguruma says wryly.

"They're only doing their jobs. They are professionals too," Akabane gently reminds him.

"Yeah, well they can do it a little less efficiently. Betty doesn't like it when she gets shot at," Gouzou says, affectionately caressing the steering wheel. He maneuvers closer inside the inner lane, keeping his side of the truck protected by the mountains so that the protection service people can't disable their prey's driver in their bid to stop the vehicle. This doesn't give them much room to jockey around, however, but at least it keeps the attack focused on one area, which is easier to deal with.

Another car comes screaming down the lane and pulls even with Akabane's side. A burst of gunfire would have caused the passenger side window to cave in if it hadn't already been open. As it is, Akabane feels the hot kiss of lead barely brushing past his cheek when the bullets lodge themselves in the truck's padded interior.

"Sons of bitches! Hold on, Jackal!" Maguruma floors the gas pedal and the truck surges ahead, the protection service not far behind. Persistent, indeed. Akabane hesitates, somewhat shakily raises his fingertips to the side of his face, certain that the dampness he feels trickling down his skin will have a distinctly red shade to it. He's relieved when the glove comes away still retaining its pristine whiteness, albeit slightly moist. Just sweat.

_Which mixes ever so nicely with blood –_

Akabane squeezes his eyes shut tightly. Midou-kun. Midou-kun. Midou-kun. The pulsing in his forehead clenches.

Clearly something has to be done here before things get any worse. He opens his eyes and looks at Maguruma. "The next time they catch up to us, let them stay level with you," he explains as he unfastens his seatbelt. "I'll put a stop to their behavior."

Gouzou nods, tracking their enemies' progress with one eye on his mirrors and the other fixated on the road he's navigating. When the protection service has regrouped their charge he notifies Akabane. "Two cars, coming up fast."

Akabane watches the attackers close in. Just as the lead man is about to give the signal to fire he leans halfway out of the window, one hand clasping his hat in place, and casts his other arm at the first car. Four scalpels eject from his hand at the same speed and with the same force as bullets. They puncture each tire and the imbalance sends the car screeching across the asphalt as its driver tries to regain control. The second car is forced to fall back lest the two collide, but not for long. Driver number one skids off the side of the road and smashes into the guardrail, clearing the path for Two to come barreling alongside the truck.

Four more scalpels produce similar results. Akabane sits back in his seat, adjusting his hat and tucking his windswept hair back behind one ear. "Are there any more?"

"Could be. I know I saw at least three cars back there by the roadblock," Maguruma replies. He hasn't eased any on the gas pedal.

"Then the third probably isn't lagging. Do you have any aspirin in here, by any chance?"

"Glove compartment in front of you. Bottled water's in the cooler, back of the cab."

"Thank you."

Akabane searches out the water first, getting up from his seat and retrieving a chilled beverage. He sits back down and tucks it between his legs momentarily while fetching the aspirin from the glove compartment. The cap of the medicine bottle twists off neatly and he automatically tips two tablets into his palm; after a few seconds of thought he adds two more. Just in case. Akabane pops the pills into his mouth – their acidic flavor gives him something else besides the hissing thoughts in his mind to focus on – and puts the lid back on the bottle before returning it to its cubby. As he's opening his water he has an inspiration, and crunches down on the aspirin, breaking them up.

Now he'll have a fresh distraction to drive him up the wall. But better that than risk his lover's ire…

…_but he likes blood too…!_

Akabane tips the bottle to his lips and washes the revolting mash down his throat with a generous swallow. He recaps it and places it in a cup-holder on the dash. "Anything yet?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. I thought that the Kanzakis were higher-rated than that."

"Eh, you can't trust whatever comes out of Markus's mouth these days. He'll tell you one thing and it ends up being completely different."

Secretly Akabane is pleased by this information. He hopes that this is the last they'll see of the infamous protection service. But when his senses detect a blood trail, they're seldom wrong in their tracking…

Maguruma looks up at the sky, which has darkened to a sullen blue-grey. "Gonna storm soon," he says.

Akabane studies the heavy clouds. He can taste bitterness that's more blood-based than aspirin-flavored. A few minutes later a jagged bolt of lightning splits the sky apart. Its cleaving coincides with the return of his migraine, which vacillates between virulent hissing and buzzing whispers, occasionally punctuated with a slightly louder growl or two.

"Yes, it is," he replies softly.

--

Afternoon comes and with it, the storm bursts open over everything as if punishing the world for some unnamed sin. The downpour makes it increasingly difficult for Maguruma to drive in spite of his vehicular mastery, so they decide to stop for lunch at a small restaurant off of the main highway. Maguruma makes sure to park where the truck won't be spotted by unwelcome visitors, yet they'll still be able to keep an eye on it from their vantage point inside the building.

Akabane retrieves the bottle of aspirin from the glove compartment once more. The ache that feels as if it's warping the entire contents of his head into a pretzel tells him he's going to need it again shortly.

The restaurant is dingy-looking but clean enough. The clientele, what there are of them, are composed mostly of similar travelers, truckers who were caught unawares by the bad weather and decided to wait out the storm. They choose a spot that keeps their backs protected, where they can look out the window and see Maguruma's truck. An older waitress arrives to bring them water glasses and take their orders and when she leaves Akabane brings out the aspirin bottle from his coat pocket. He opens it and tips two more tablets into his hand. "You need a better supply kit in your truck," he tells Gouzou solicitously after washing the pills down with water.

"Didn't figure you for the type to get sick often," the other man says. He glances around the room. It's not crowded but there are a few people milling about some of the nearer tables. Quietly, so as not to have anyone overhear their conversation, he says, "You okay there? You look a little green around the gills."

Akabane pulls his hat down lower over his face. He feels at least as green but sees no need to let Maguruma know that. "I'm fine. How much longer?" he asks, changing the subject back to their mission.

"Couple hours, give or take a few side roads. And whether or not we run into any more interruptions from our friends."

Akabane closes his eyes against the drumbeat pounding in his skull. A couple of hours. He can hold out that long, surely. He's come this far without spilling any blood…

…but there is still another half of the day to go…

Midou-kun, Midou-kun, Midou-kun, Midou-kun, Midou-kun… It's become a lifeline, a soothing repetition to invoke whenever temptation threatens. He lifts both hands to delicately massage the sides of his temples in a vain attempt to dispel some of the discomfort.

Sensing how miserable he's feeling right now Maguruma attempts to offer comfort. "Maybe it would just be better if you knocked out a few J's, blow off some steam…you know?"

Oh, bless the dear man for trying, really. But that's the absolute _last_ thing he needs at this point if he's to remain faithful to his promise. Akabane opens his eyes and smiles reassuringly at him, though the corners of his mouth are tight with pain. "No. I don't want to be responsible for any further delays. We've lost enough time with this weather as it is."

Gouzou nods. "How long's it been anyway?"

Akabane has to think for a second. "About six months," he murmurs.

Gouzou whistles under his breath. "That long, eh? That's gotta be some sort of record for you, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Akabane says, shrugging.

"So what do you do when it gets bad like this?"

"Normally it isn't this bad." Akabane pauses, noting the way the raindrops bounce off the window in a rupture of liquid when they impact. "Perhaps it's the weather that's affecting it." But he knows that isn't the case. He's gone through periods of withdrawal before and been fine; the difference is in what prompts those withdrawals, and like any true hunter knows the call of blood is a force to be reckoned with.

A noisy cloudburst of rain preempts any further conversation and they sit silently for several minutes, watching the world outside drown. Akabane rests his head on his forearms and closes his eyes again. Not for the first time is he thankful for his hat, which blocks out most of the outer stimuli that aggravates his misery. Exposure to people and all their foibles for prolonged periods can sometimes make him feel as though his nerves are being rubbed raw by sandpaper. The games one must constantly engage in for the sake of appearances…

One of the reasons he enjoys being around the Get Backers so often is the dispensation with these ridiculous tactics. Whatever differences may lie between him and them at times, the Get Backers are always true to themselves and are likewise as honest with others. One never need worry about where that person stands with either Ginji-kun or Midou-kun: when the former says he cares about you he means it forever and if the latter _doesn't _like you he won't hesitate to volunteer his opinion through either fist or mouth, even if this bluntness is costly in the longer run. Even if he doesn't always understand or agree with it, one thing Akabane admires greatly is strength of character and these two are fairly overflowing with it. Seldom has he met such worthwhile and fascinating individuals.

Midou-kun especially understands this. Whereas Ginji-kun will happily offer up his heart on a plate to anyone who so much as looks sweetly at him, Midou-kun is far more wary about human interaction. Though they've rarely discussed such subjects, Akabane senses his lover is all too familiar with the darker aspects of humanity and can readily sympathize; in his own travels he's encountered plenty of that evidence – same shit, different day, as Midou-kun would tell him.

_Midou-kun…I wish I were home with you right now instead of carrying out this dull job…_ Akabane impulsively decides that tomorrow will be a 'playing hooky' kind of day, one of relaxation where they will do nothing but lounge around in their pajamas, curled up together on the couch snacking on their favorite foods and watching old movies. Perhaps they could chat more in-depth about their shared experiences also, and make love a few times as well. Or maybe they could invite Ginji-kun over and spend the better part of the day playing on the battlefield. These thoughts cheer him and the pain actually recedes some.

The waitress arrives with their food. Maguruma wastes no time digging in. He's a big man and has a big appetite to match. Conversely, Akabane eats only what he has need for and observes a moderate diet in all culinary consumptions. But thanks to his indisposition he has very little appetite today, and so manages to finish only half of the soup he ordered.

Maguruma gets up from his seat, picking up the check as he goes. "I'll take care of this and we'll get going."

"All right. I'm going to see if there's a lavatory in this place and then I'll meet you outside."

Maguruma nods and leaves to pay the bill. Akabane wanders toward the back of the restaurant in search of washroom facilities. Halfway there he notices a little girl, about six or seven years old perhaps, struggling with the wrapper of a bandage. She's skinned her knee.

He stops and kneels by her table. "Would you like some help with that?"

She looks up at him and sniffles. She's a lovely child, big brown eyes like Ginji-kun's and straight dark hair braided into pigtails. "I fell down," she says in a wavering voice, pointing at her injury. It's not bleeding any more but the skin is abraded in a few places.

"That happens sometimes," Akabane replies gently. He offers his hand and the little girl gives him the bandage. He removes it from its wrapper and checks the wound before applying it. "Has it been cleaned off?"

"Mommy did that," the little girl says.

"Good. Hold still for just a moment, please…" She obediently holds a pose while Akabane carefully fixes the bandage to her knee. "There you go."

A voice speaks behind them. "What do we say, Aya-chan?"

The little girl looks up at her returning parent, and then smiles shyly at Akabane. "Thank you," she chirps.

He smiles back at her. "You're welcome."

As he rises the young mother also offers her thanks for his assistance. "You're very good with children. Are you a doctor?" she asks.

Akabane pauses. "One does not necessarily need to be a doctor to know how to treat a scraped knee," he says modestly.

Aya-chan's mother smiles. "That's true."

He catches her gaze wandering to his hands and though they're sheathed by his gloves he anticipates the question that will be a prelude to another; it's not the first time and it won't be the last that someone, usually of the feminine persuasion, has inquired about his marital status. Most of the time he patiently indulges the asker's curiosity, but a sudden jab of pain reminds him that now is not the time for chitchat. Besides, he is on duty. "I apologize for my hasty departure, but I must be going if I'm to make my delivery on schedule. Do take care in this frightful weather."

The young mother and her daughter thank him once more and bid him a pleasant trip, and Akabane sets off again on his original mission.

Unfortunately the restroom doesn't appear to be as tidy as the rest of the building, but he hadn't planned on using any of the facilities so it doesn't matter. Instead Akabane checks the room to be sure he's alone and then withdraws the aspirin and bottled water from his coat pocket. Eating aspirin like candy isn't the best thing perhaps, but adverse effects don't really concern him and at this point he needs all the support he can get. He opens the bottle and tips several more pills into his mouth, washing them down with several swallows of still-cool water.

His stomach doesn't take kindly to the addition of extra contents. A mild queasiness works in conjunction with the headache and creates a painful wave of dizziness which, while not seriously threatening, throws him off balance enough that he has to lean against the wall for a second to get his bearings. Akabane can't help shivering from the small chill coursing through him and frowning, grits his teeth. He will not make a fool of himself by being sick now.

He hears the door to the washroom swing open and a gravelly voice suddenly rasps near his ear. "Well, well, what have we here? I wondered when you'd get tired of your boyfriend and come looking for me."

Akabane stifles a sigh. That's the trouble with these kinds of highway stops; one never knows what sort of dregs one might run into at them. He takes a deep breath and calmly turns to face his would-be assailant with an icy smile. "Oh, but I'm afraid you're mistaken. He's expecting me shortly, and he's _very_ jealous." Sometimes playing along with them is an amusing way to defuse the situation – most of these types he's encountered expect him to react with angry defensiveness rather than coy humor.

Unfortunately luck is not with Akabane today as his pursuer is of the more persistent type. The brute grins and forces him back against the wall. His grubby hands reach for Akabane's waist and he bats ineffectually at them.

"Come on, pretty. It won't hurt – much." The tobacco-stained smile clearly communicates that the man will enjoy it all the more if it does.

"I said no thank you." Akabane tries to push the man away again but finds himself being roughly turned around and herded in the direction of one of the stalls. He struggles and pain explodes through his head in a starburst of color that momentarily blots out his vision.

"Be a good boy now and I won't have to hit you again," his attacker laughs as he forces his prey to bend over the toilet.

Akabane is not happy. The back of his head feels like it's been slammed by a hammer and fresh nausea is welling up in his stomach, and the whole room feels like he's been tossed onto some sort of demented carousel that's spinning at double time. He briefly considers emptying his lunch into the bowl before him, but another problem quickly catches his attention: the brute is attempting to remove the lower portion of his clothing.

_One day, Midou-kun, I'm sure we'll both look back on this and laugh…but right now it's time to be serious._

Akabane abruptly goes limp in the man's hold. "Ahh, gonna relax and enjoy it, eh?" the man chuckles, shoving the length of trenchcoat out of his way as his fingers claw at the belt on Akabane's trousers. "Too bad. I was kinda hoping you'd fight me a little more – " He gags suddenly as Akabane's elbow buries itself in his gut.

The man falls backwards and Akabane moves lightning-quick, whipping around and driving the heel of his boot into his jaw. He hears the crack of teeth jarring together and a river of blood erupts from the man's mouth as he measures his length across the floor. Akabane gets up and the man does likewise, his face nearly as red as the blood that's streaming out of his mouth.

"You fucking little prick!" He charges Akabane like a bull driven mad by the banner of a challenge, but he proves to be no such for his opponent. The _snick_ of emerging blades is too quiet to be heard amidst the stomping of boots, and it's only at the very last second that Akabane remembers to turn his knives to one side so that they etch only an outline of the letter instead of piercing it all the way through the torso.

Stunned by the surprise attack the bigger man falls back and looks down at his ripped shirt, at the bright red seeping through his skin and dribbling onto the tile. A terrible recognition dawns in his eyes and it's one that Akabane knows well – that heart-stopping moment of terror when an enemy realizes he's just made the unwanted acquaintance of the notorious Doctor Jackal.

Two pairs of eyes, one blackened by fear and the other a frigid purple, meet in the frozen stillness. Akabane takes a step forward, brandishing his scalpel-studded fist with lethal intent. He isn't smiling, and there's a flash of fang as he speaks. "Leave, before I finish the job," he hisses.

The assailant doesn't need to be told twice. Blubbering like a baby he scrambles out the door.

Akabane lets his knives recede and slumps against the wall. The nausea hits him full strength and he makes his own dash for the toilet again, having just enough presence of mind to pull his hair back from his face as he rids himself of the soup and aspirin he'd consumed earlier. There isn't much but what comes out burns his throat every inch of the way.

He shudders for several minutes, riding out the dry heaves that finish this vomiting spell, praying that he won't pass out from the agony drumming up a dance in his head. He hears heavy breathing and realizes he's speaking out loud. "Midou-kun…Midou-kun…Midou-kun…"

He'd wanted _so badly_ to slice that filth into bloody slabs of meat…!

_Then why didn't you, you fool? Not as if your lover wouldn't have understood. He's done similar if not worse things himself; he carries the blood-taint as well. Maybe you _are_ getting daft in the head, Jackal…and you know what happens to those that are _weak_… _

_But I want…I want…_ "…I want to go home…" Akabane hears himself whisper softly. He hurts so much right now…

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the cool bowl. Oh, that feels nice. Smooth and chilling. He makes a mental note to ask Gouzou if he's got an icepack somewhere in that truck of his…

Gouzou. He'll be wondering what's happened to his partner. And Akabane had promised not to cause any further delays…

Damn it.

Akabane wills his breathing into a more controlled rhythm. He ignores the protesting of his aching body as he carefully gets up and forces the pain into its own separate compartment, folding and spindling it into a cramped corner and silently commanding it to remain there, out of his way. He is a professional, the very best at what he does. He will _not_ be defeated in his mission – even if it is an unimpressive one like this.

He inspects his clothing for bloodstains. There are none. He removes his gloves, tucking them into an inside breast pocket of his coat, and goes to the sink. He rinses his face and then his mouth with water several times, all the while silently chanting both Midou-kun's and Ginji-kun's names like magical charms to ward off further ill fortune. He takes a paper towel and blots his face dry with it.

The towel is discarded in a wastebasket and the gloves go back on. Akabane tidies his rumpled clothing, which fortunately was not damaged by the over-amorous suitor. He checks his hat, tilts it on his head just so, and studies his reflection through the slit in the brim. Better.

He pockets the bottle of aspirin and the bottle of water, both still sitting on the sink, without making further use of either one. Mere aspirin will do him no good now, not with the migraine having escalated into a full-blown hurricane inside his head.

Akabane gives his reflection one last glance and leaves the restroom. No one in the restaurant appears visibly alarmed by his appearance, so the thug evidently escaped notice when he was fleeing.

Maguruma is waiting in the lobby. His eyebrow lifts somewhat as if he's going to ask the inevitable question and Akabane cuts him off with a terse, "Let's go," as he stalks outside to where the truck awaits.

--

The steady purr of a truck engine eventually rouses Akabane from his nap in the back of the cab. He sits up carefully, mindful of the throbbing in his head as he takes stock of his surroundings. The rain's abated some but is still pouring, giving the wipers on Maguruma's windshield plenty of work to do. Gouzou is humming quietly along with an oldies tune on the radio.

Akabane crawls up front and takes a seat in the passenger side. The daylight's lessened and so has the pain. That rest helped a bit, though the aching is by no means diminished in its frequency. The whispers of blood have become a constant ever since they stopped at the restaurant but he's accepted their presence, made his mark and now gives them little thought. "By the way," Akabane says in an attempt to make up for his earlier waspishness, "you're my boyfriend now, in case anyone asks."

Gouzou snorts. "That so? Am I top or bottom in this relationship?"

Feeling a tiny smile curl the edges of his mouth in response to their familiar bantering, Akabane teases back. "Whichever you like. It's all good, isn't it?"

"Depends on what you can do for me," Gouzou sasses.

"Hmm. Well, I can cook, but you knew that already. I can play the piano. The house would always be clean and your clothes always pressed. We have enough in common that conversation wouldn't be a problem." Akabane smiles slyly at his partner. "And according to Midou-kun, I'm magnificent in bed."

Maguruma laughs. "I'll stick with Suzume. She's got more meat on her bones than you do. No offense. Plus something tells me your other boyfriend's possessive and I don't feel like going through another one of those damn crazy hallucinations of his."

Akabane chuckles. "You're just mad that he almost got you to brake."

"Hey, I have a reputation to protect!"

They share a few quiet peals of laughter before Maguruma asks after Akabane's condition. "How's your head?"

"Like you ran over it with your truck."

"You should've J'ed the bastard." When Akabane casts him a curious glance the other man elaborates. "Yeah, I saw him. Looked like he was gonna shit cactus bricks. What'd he do, try copping a feel?"

"Among other things." Pain lances his skull again, prompting Akabane to close his eyes against the onslaught. "I wish now I _had_ cut him open. Maybe I am going soft," he murmurs, more to himself than to Maguruma.

The other man answers him anyway. "Nah, I don't think so, Jackal. Actually…" He hesitates, searching for the best way to phrase his words. "I think these Get Backers have been good for you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You're calmer these days. Not as edgy as you used to be. But still on top of your game. Maybe even better."

How interesting. Maguruma is the second person he knows now who's remarked on a noticeable difference in his personality, or at least his habits. Akabane feels a strange measure of satisfaction at this, in spite of an anxious twinge that warns against letting people get close. Bad things happen when people are allowed within his barriers.

As if to reinforce this caution the throbbing in his head expands suddenly and it's vicious enough to make Akabane double over in his seat, uttering a tiny groan as he does so. _Don't even think about it,_ the pain snarls. _There's only one thing you're good at that you really enjoy and only one thing you need to know, and that's just how much blood you can swim through before you find out the full extent of your true strength._

"Jackal? Hey, Akabane, you okay?"

Maguruma's speaking to him, he knows, but for a second he can't hear it because he's too wrapped up in clawing his way through the haze of pain temporarily blinding him to anything else. A large hand grabs his shoulder and steadies him before he topples off the seat in an undignified heap.

"Thank you."

"What'd that punk do, crack you one over the head?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I better take you to a hospital after we drop off this cargo. Head injuries aren't anything to screw around with, Jackal – "

"I _have_ had medical training, Maguruma. Don't you think I know that?" Akabane snaps, his voice cold and precise like the slice of a knife. Then, feeling abruptly…guilty? over his tongue-lashing, he says in a much softer tone, "I appreciate the concern, but I'll be all right. I just need to rest for a while, that's all."

Gouzou nods. He starts to say something else but a popping noise precedes any words that might have exited his mouth, and he grunts as he jerks over the steering wheel in a waterfall of glass. The truck shudders and veers out of its lane.

Both men startled, they look each other and then at the blossoming flower of red that grazes Maguruma's shoulder. Behind him, out the broken window, Akabane catches a glimpse in the mirror of a gun muzzle swinging up for another attempt. He leans over and drags Maguruma down in the seat just in time to avoid another round of fire.

The third car of protectors has finally caught up with them.

Gouzou's still hanging onto the steering wheel, trying to keep the semi from being run off the road. It's not an easy task, what with his injury and the intermittent bursts of gunfire toward the cab. The truck is weaving all over the road and in the current weather conditions would be risking a deadly jackknife were it not for Maguruma's driving skill.

Akabane clasps his hat with one hand and peeks out the window, timing the car's approach. But the last members of the protection service have learned from their comrades' failures, and at the first sight of that dreaded black hat quickly veer to the back of the truck where he can't shoot his scalpels at them.

Akabane frowns and turns back to his partner. "How bad is it?"

Maguruma grunts. He's sweating and gripping the steering wheel with both hands like it's a life preserver, trying to keep their pursuers in the back where they can't do any immediate damage. "Hurts like somebody shoved a hot poker through it," he growls.

"Let me look?"

"Ah! Jackal!"

"Sorry." Akabane quickly cuts open part of Gouzou's thick pullover to have a look at the wound. It's bleeding but not gushing, and it hasn't hit anything vital from what he can see. "You'll live," he assures Maguruma.

He glances up at the mirror on the side of the truck, monitoring the enemy car's progress. They're starting to speed up again, apparently planning to pass on the next open lane. _Our friends, however, will not,_ he thinks with a dark glee. "How do you stop this thing?" he asks, grasping the wheel while Gouzou adjusts his shirt with one hand. Akabane can drive though he doesn't own a vehicle, but he isn't familiar with a manual transmission such as this one.

"Better let me do it. At the rate this trip's going the bastards are liable to shoot out the tires next."

"Pull over then, please. I've had just about enough of their uncouth behavior for one day," Akabane says, and when he speaks his voice has taken on a steel quality that makes clear to anyone aware of his alias's _modus operandi_ that his initials are about to scatter around more freely than sakura petals in a windstorm.

Maguruma fights with the weather and the wheel but he manages to slow the truck's speed, bringing it to a coasting stop alongside the highway. Behind them the protection service is doing likewise, having misinterpreted the semi's stopping as a sign of surrender. Won't they be surprised!

Akabane searches through the back of the cab and finds a few spare towels, ostensibly for cleaning. He takes these and orders Maguruma to lie down. "Keep pressure on it if you can while I deal with our fan club," he says as he packs the towels against the bloody wound.

Gouzou nods and Akabane climbs out of the truck. His characteristic grace deserts him at the worst possible moment and his foot slips off the wet steps, sending him tumbling with a yelp into the ditch, head pounding with renewed suffering.

This has definitely not been a good day.

Midou-kun, Ginji-kun, Midou-kun, Ginji-kun, Midou-kun, Ginji-kun, Midou-kun…

It's an effort to force the voices in his mind away from an erupting tantrum but Akabane does so with nary a ruffled expression, even though he has the distinct impression that they're laughing at his misfortune in spite of their belligerent mood. _Serves you right for being Goody-Two-Shoes all day instead of Dr. Jackal, doesn't it? And here if you'd just taken care of business as usual, you could have had a lot more fun…_

With as much dignity as he can muster he gets up and brushes off whatever mud and water he can, picks up his hat and replaces it, and goes to meet the opposition. The rain has eased to a drizzle, the air thick with humidity and sizzling with a taut expectation of violence. In the gloom he notices four hulking figures exit the car behind them, each armed with a weapon. They train their guns on him as soon as they spot him and spread out as the group creeps closer, surrounding the truck in a semi-circle.

It starts as whispers again, with the promise of fresh blood. Akabane's irritation melts some and he feels a growing quiver of excitement that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with anticipation, the thrill of matching wits and weapons with lethally-minded opponents. Oh yes, he's missed this. A surge of adrenaline dissolves some of his headache and he feels more and more like his old self as he lets the scalpels inside him flutter teasingly close to the surface of his skin. Not yet…the element of surprise is everything.

The leader of the group speaks once they're within hearing range. "Hand over your cargo."

"You can't even say 'please' first? How rude." Akabane clucks his tongue at them and chuckles at the sound of weapons being cocked. "Do you really think that you will be an adequate match for me?"

"We don't plan to fight you, Dr. Jackal," the leader says coldly. "We'll just blow you away, right here, right now, if you don't cooperate. Look up on the cliff behind you."

Akabane does so and spots another group of men taking aim at the truck's cab with their guns. Red beams glow from the weapons' tips and dot the side of the vehicle – snipers. He looks back to the leader with a raised eyebrow.

"That's right, doctor. Do as we say or both you and your comrade die. The cargo. Now."

Rather pushy lot, aren't they? Akabane frowns. Obviously no one bothered to teach the Kanzaki cousins any manners. Such is the state of the world these days. He carefully reaches up, adjusts his hat. "Very well. If you will please follow me?"

He starts to walk towards the rear of the trailer, knowing that the main focus will be on him but still aware of the quad above that's keeping an eye on Maguruma. Hmm. This could present a bit of a problem. Luckily for Akabane he is as swift in his thoughts as he is on his feet. He is confident he will find a solution in the transporters' favor.

Midou-kun's stern visage immediately surfaces to the forefront of his mind. _What kind of a 'solution,' Jackal?_ he can almost hear him saying. _Remember our bargain…_

_Yes, I remember. I might also remind you of the caveat to this deal – when there is no other option certain sacrifices will have to be made on occasion if you wish to continue our arrangement. No?_

_Sacrifices, yes. Unnecessary ones, no._

_And is not Maguruma one such unnecessary sacrifice? If I give in to their demands, it is quite likely that the protection service will choose to eliminate us as a bonus for their employer. And I have no intention of becoming a trophy for some glory-seeking amateur._

Ginji-kun suddenly appears to plead his two cents. _So don't. You can still disable them without killing them, but you don't have to do to them what they're planning to do to you._

_I don't _have_ to…I _want_ to…_

Blue eyes take the place of brown ones now. _More than you want to explore the interests you've found with me, Jackal?_

That thought stops Akabane in his tracks. Midou-kun has managed to infiltrate his life in ways unexpected, enough that he finds himself making adjustments here and there to accommodate his lover's wishes. Ginji-kun's as well, sometimes. He doesn't really know why he feels compelled to do this, only that it seems like the thing to do at the time, and the apparent pleasure the Get Backers receive from his small actions serves as reinforcement to perform more of the same, especially when he also inexplicably finds enjoyment in it.

Then the question becomes: does he truly enjoy spending time with Midou-kun, doing new and different things, rather than continue with what he's known to be a consistent and even comforting source of pleasure?

_But it's been so long since I've done this…!_

This is what he's lived and bled for, what ordinarily sends his jackal's senses soaring at the first strains of wet music provided by scalpels and screams. This readiness of the hunt, preparing to stalk, an ensuing chase, a fierce, consuming struggle…and then the triumphant kill. Once it made him feel so wild and passionate and alive –

- ah, but it still does, doesn't it? -

- but ever since joining with Midou-kun he's discovered something else that arouses and captivates him, something as-yet indefinable and unnamed but no less powerful…perhaps even more so…and though it scares him to his core, this mystery, he's excited by it and enjoys it and wants to see where it will take him. It may well be a path that could still lead him to the discovery of his ultimate strength.

Pain flares anew behind his eyes; Akabane keeps his gaze focused on the environment around him. He will _not_ surrender to this infernal weakness threatening to humiliate him. Like Maguruma he also has a reputation to consider.

A gun roughly prods him in the back. "The cargo," growls a voice to his rear.

Akabane's mind races. This will be tricky, but he believes he can manage it. "It is located in the very front of the trailer," he explains. "I haven't any keys to unlock the trailer doors, but my associate possesses them. If you would permit him to come to our assistance I will show you to the correct crate." Very, very slowly and with raised hands to reveal a distinct lack of weaponry, he turns around to face the gunman, offering a pleasant smile. "I assure you, neither of us poses a threat with him wounded and me under your capable guard."

Two of the gunmen step aside to confer with each other, both eyes on him as they exchange a flurry of whispered conversation. "Tell your associate if he tries anything funny he's dead before he hits the ground," says the lead man as the pair of protectors heads for the cab. He and his other associate step in closer and aim their weapons at Akabane's head and torso.

He nods and calls out to Maguruma. "Mr. No-Brakes? We would greatly appreciate your cooperation back here, if you don't mind. Kindly allow our friends to escort you."

Gouzou's cranky voice echoes from the open window. "Yeah, yeah."

Akabane looks to his side, at the leader of the pack. "He is wounded in his upper right shoulder. As he is my driver and therefore my only means of transportation home I would prefer that your men handle him with care to avoid further damage."

The other man laughs rudely. "Doc, I'd say you ought to be more worried about _if _you'll get home tonight rather than how."

Arrogant creep. He probably _is _planning to dispose of them once his team retrieves the transport item. Well, he'll quite enjoy being the wrench in those plans, Akabane thinks with a smile that's still pleasant yet hints at a nasty end.

The other protectors return with Maguruma in tow. His partner is bloodied from the shot he took and looks rightfully upset but otherwise unharmed. The head Kanzaki nods brusquely at him. "Open the doors." Maguruma complies and once having done so steps back at his captors' order, waiting to see what unfolds – both he and Akabane know that Jackal would never have asked him to leave the truck unless he had some sort of plan up his sleeve.

Kanzaki Number One pokes Akabane in the back with his gun again. "Fetch."

The gears cranking painful vibrations inside his head fume at being addressed in such a derogatory fashion, but Akabane calms them by visualizing an image of a beautiful bright red J across the Kanzaki's body. _Bear with me just a while longer,_ he assures the frenzy coiling inside him. "I will require assistance to move the item. It's heavy," he says.

Fearless Leader nods. "So _both_ of you fetch," he barks at Maguruma.

Mr. No-Brakes initially balks, but it's strictly for show – like Dr. Jackal he's aware of their enemies' unspoken intent and knows they'll be suspicious if he capitulates too soon. "I can't move this arm with a bullet hole in it," he complains.

One of his guards jabs him viciously near his injury. "There'll be plenty more where that came from if you don't hurry up and do what we want," sneers the protector while Maguruma grunts with pain.

Akabane isn't above lobbing his own peculiarly affectionate jibe, unable to resist – when his blood is tingling with excitement, when his nerves are flirting with tension, he's coasting on an exhilarating high that lets him finesse the waves as they come. "I believe it would be best if you applied the latter half of your name to that stubborn nature of yours and, shall we say, put the brakes on further resistance, considering our current situation. Hmm?" he says with a twinkle of purple mischief.

Gouzou approaches and his eyes meet Akabane's for a second. Oh yes, Maguruma is going to make him pay for that later. Still Akabane chuckles softly in response as they both climb up into the trailer at the behest of the Kanzakis.

_Come into my parlour, said the spider to the flies…_

Inside, it's bright enough to see without flashlights – special lighting was installed so that it automatically comes on when the doors are opened. The transporters venture to the front where several large crates await inspection. At the moment only one of them contains anything of value, and it is this crate to which Akabane and Maguruma come. "It's in here," Akabane tells the leader. "Would you like to see it so that you know we're being truthful?"

"Open it," Kanzaki orders as he and his squad climb into the trailer. "This better not be a trick."

Hiding his smirk Akabane turns to Maguruma. "You heard him." The whispers are positively seething now, barely restrained in the face of a brewing fight.

Maguruma shoots both him and the Kanzaki headman a glare, but does as he's told. He takes down a crowbar from its peg on the wall and works at prying the crate's lid off. Since he has limited use of his injured arm it's slower going, but this suits Akabane's purposes nicely.

While his cohort wrestles with the lid Akabane looks at the men who have surrounded them and smiles. "You are quite the persistent service, pursuing us all this way in such dreadful weather. A lesser group of protectors would not have been as inclined to follow."

Mister Kanzaki snorts and gives him a smug glance. "We're not ones to pass up a chance to best the infamous Doctor Jackal and No-Brakes. And it's not storming out there now, is it?"

Akabane yawns and makes to stretch his arms above his head. "No. But you never know when a light mist might turn into a _bloody rain._"

One of the advantages to having Midou-kun as his lover is the opportunity to hone his skills and learn new tricks. During their sparring sessions, they work together to find new ways of creatively neutralizing the opposition without results that bring death. This latest is a variation of one of his favorite attacks, and Akabane has to admit there is a certain dramatic style to it as he watches the scalpels fly from his hand and ricochet off the trailer's ceiling to pin all four yowling protectors to the floor.

"You dirty son of a – "

"Put a sock in it," Maguruma growls at the infuriated leader as he throws the crowbar aside and collects the guns they dropped. "Before I tell him to stuff a few of those knives down your throats!"

Akabane tosses Gouzou a somewhat startled look. "Goodness, what brought that on? I haven't seen you display this much temper since your truck was egged after we came home late from that one job on your anniversary."

"And whose fault was that? Jackal, I just got shot and I had to pull over because of these morons. Gee, I can't possibly imagine why I'm not happy right now."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you."

"Hmph." Maguruma's eyes flick towards the open trailer doors. "What now?"

Akabane's already shedding his mud-splattered coat and hat. "I'm going out to greet the rest of the welcoming committee, what else?" A few scalpel-slashes relieve the sputtering man nearest to him of his jacket and night-vision goggles. As a finishing touch Akabane yanks off the man's black gloves and replaces his own white ones with them. "Stay here," he directs Maguruma as he puts these things on and tucks his long hair down inside his shirt collar where it won't be easily seen. Most of the truck is bulletproof; Maguruma had it built to his specifications. He'll be out of immediate danger while Akabane takes care of the other group of protectors.

The whispers churn in predatory calculations. They aren't satisfied by this taste of battle; they want the entire buffet. Too bad, Akabane thinks spitefully as he picks up one of the guns and exits the trailer. Blood's already been spilled tonight and it isn't even entirely of his own doing – they'll just have to be content with that much because he's not about to renege on his promise and prove Midou-kun right: that his thirst for fighting is greater than his longing for –

A shout from above draws his attention. The second group of protectors is signaling him, wanting to know the status of the operation. Evidently his disguise is working. Akabane points to the trailer and gives the group a thumbs-up. The leader of the second group nods and gestures first at himself, then at the road below. They'll be arriving shortly as reinforcements.

That's what their plan is, anyway. Akabane has other ideas. He waits until all four figures have turned their backs to him and then he drops the gun and rips off the annoying goggles and vaults onto the top of the trailer. From there it's a leap and scrabble up the nearest cliff, and he reaches the top before his enemies have gotten inside their vehicle. They turn to confront the interloper but by then it's too late. Faster than they can react Akabane darts from man to man, chopping each one hard on the back of his head the way Midou-kun showed him how to. When they all lie unconscious at his feet he gathers up their weapons and hurls them over the side of the cliff where they can't get to them.

Akabane pauses. Then he smirks as he withdraws a scalpel and bends over, cutting a nice big J-hole into each protector's clothes. Perhaps it _is _childish, but it's amusing in a twisted sort of way to leave these souvenirs behind even if he hasn't killed his prey. "Consider this a warning," he says to one silent man as the blade whittles through fabric and protective gear as neatly as lightning through clouds.

He jumps back down to the trailer and calls to Maguruma. "It's safe to come out now."

"Took you long enough," Gouzou gripes as he eases down the steps. "You save me any of that aspirin, or did you eat the whole bottle?"

"Aspirin is an anticoagulant," Akabane primly lectures as he joins him on the ground. "That isn't what you need right now." He looks into the trailer where his knives continue holding the irate Kanzaki members hostage. "What shall we do with them?"

"I locked up their guns in one of the spare crates. Those suckers'll fetch a decent price on the black market," Maguruma says. "As for them…well, frankly, I'm for slashing their tires and leaving the bastards to walk."

Akabane casts him a curious look. "I wouldn't have thought you to be the vengeful sort."

"_Nobody_ messes with my baby. You have any idea what it'll cost to replace that window they shot out?"

"Well, you know what they say. You get what you pay for," Akabane says, flicking a few strands of damp hair out of his face. "And you are the best driver around; therefore you should have the most expensive repairs."

"Heh."

Akabane reaches out a hand and recalls the scalpels trapping the Kanzaki bunch. Cautiously they begin rising to their feet, one by one, glaring in equal parts anger and fear at their captors. "This is how it is," Akabane calmly explains as he fights off the urge to close his eyes against the battering headache and its twin fatigue. "You will all get inside your vehicle now and leave, minus your intended objective. And we shall be on our way."

"Fuck you," snaps one man. "Who do you think you are?" He starts to say something else, presumably more obscene insults, when something lashes against the side of his face and he cries out in pain.

Akabane smiles with a distinct lack of friendliness. He lets the scalpel twiddle between his fingers as he studies the miniature carved J dripping blood down the side of the man's face. "I'm Doctor Jackal, and I suggest that you not try what's left of my patience if you don't wish to learn how I came by that calling."

Humbled by the reminder that they could be dispatched at any time the protectors sullenly file out of the trailer and head towards their car. The last one to exit is the leader himself, and he shoots Akabane a hateful sneer, which is returned by measured amethyst ice. "You should be thankful. You will live to tell your story," Akabane says. "Most who encounter me are not as fortunate."

The other man spits at his feet. "Your day's coming, Jackal. I'd watch my back if I were you."

"Sticks and stones," Maguruma mutters as he finishes locking up the trailer doors. "Get out of here, maggot."

The transporters watch their enemies go and then start to walk towards the cab. "How pathetic a threat is that?" Akabane says, trying to make light of the situation and bring some amusement to what has otherwise been a most disappointing day. "As if I've never heard that one before. You'd think that somebody could invent a comeback that was worth mentioning – "

It's only his heightened instincts that save him from the final insult. A knife whistles through the air and he dodges, but not fast enough. The blade bites into the flesh of his side and that's the absolute last straw.

_Midou-kun Ginji-kun Midou-kun Ginji-kun Midou-kun Ginji-kun Midou-kun Midou-kun Midou-kun -_

Akabane is tired, muddy, wet and sore, the beats inside his head are doing a flamenco off the insides of his skull making him see double at several intervals, he's been accosted by perverts and thugs and been unpleasantly ill at least once today while fighting off a siren song that's nearly irresistible in its cravings, and his tolerance for ridiculous fools is stretched to the breaking point. His mask slips and his expression twists into cold rage as he spins and rips the dagger out of his side and flings his left hand at Leader Kanzaki, and the bitter night rings with two sharp words no one who faces Dr. Jackal ever wants to hear.

All of Akabane's attacks are lethal to some degree or another but the Bloody Cross is arguably his most deadly power. The ethereal Observer of Babylon City, or rather his mirror double, learned this the hard way. How it works exactly is a mystery even to Akabane, but it's thoroughly effective at what it does and at the moment he doesn't care about the mechanics of its genesis. Kanzaki screams as a cross-like pattern impacts his body and he literally bursts into four neatly separated sections that seem to dissolve him in a geyser of blood.

The rest of the protectors take off running for their vehicle, unwittingly setting themselves up as perfect targets for the hurricane Akabane plans to summon next. He's about to sprint after them with knives extended from both hands; in less time than it takes to blink because he moves too fast to be tracked by plain eyesight he'll rip his surgical blades in a savage succession of lightning-quick lines – diagonal slash angling from shoulder to shoulder, reverse half a stroke, vertical line down through the torso and then another diagonal slice curving upwards across the lower abdomen which completely guts the victims – and cause bodies to drop and soak the already-saturated ground with blood from the Jackal's fresh kills – but incredibly, it seems his full pleasure is destined to be denied yet _again._

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder and Akabane very nearly slices it off at the wrist before he realizes it's just his partner. "Not now, not now!" Maguruma's yelling at him while the Kanzaki car squeals away in a spitting of gravel and asphalt. "Cops!"

Akabane looks to where he's pointing further up the road and sees the telltale revolution of police flashers. He hisses furiously – oh, how he hates it when people ruin his fun! But this is a bad time and place to attempt a stand and he knows it, so he casts one last glare down at his handiwork before taking off for the truck along with Maguruma, clutching scalpels in each fist and breathing hard not from his physical efforts but from the strain of leashing his anger.

So much for the infamous Kanzaki protection service…and his promise to Midou-kun.

Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.

--

It's well into the evening hours by the time Maguruma pulls up outside the apartment building. They sit in silence for several minutes, both of them weary with the day's toll even though they successfully delivered their item. On the very rare occasions a job goes bad it does so in a spectacular fashion.

Normally Akabane wouldn't care one way or the other. But memories – fresh and old – have been replaying through his mind all night and he feels oddly bereft. In Midou-kun's terms today would certainly be branded as a royal fuck-up, he thinks.

Midou-kun… How to explain what happened? Akabane feels an unfamiliar pang of anxiety skitter along his spine and through his chest, almost as if he's a delinquent who's behaved badly and must now face the wrath of an unforgiving parent. Foolish, he thinks, to feel this way over something that wouldn't have registered as a footnote in his thoughts before, but all just the same he can't help it.

"I'm sending you the repair bill for my truck," Gouzou says at last. "I know Himiko hates it, but for once I think you ought to have done your usual stuff. Would've saved us a lot of trouble tonight."

Akabane is too moody to argue with that verdict. "Of course." He looks pointedly at Maguruma's injury, the physician in him unable to resist chiding. "You should go to a hospital and have that shoulder looked at." Old habits do indeed die hard.

Gouzou waves him off. "I'll take care of it. What about yours?" he asks, nodding at his cohort's side.

Akabane rests a hand on the wound. It's long since stopped bleeding, and only a faint discoloration remains on the skin. Tomorrow the mark will be gone, leaving nothing behind as if it had never been there at all. "It won't be any problem." Anxiously he looks out the window at the building he will shortly enter. Midou-kun will pose a different sort of problem…

"Look, just tell him. It wasn't completely your fault. Kanzaki was asking for a confrontation and he got one." Ignoring Akabane's sigh, Gouzou continues, "It's not like you didn't try to keep it from turning into a bloodbath. Some days you're just the windshield instead of the bird, you know?"

"If you say so," Akabane replies, unconvinced. Irritation tangles with unease inside him. He isn't the kind of man to make promises, but when he does it's a point of honor to keep those few he agrees to. It's what a professional would do, after all, and he performs his duties with the utmost discretion.

Something else is responsible for the worry that's threatening to consume him – along with the whispers chittering in his head. They're still upset with him for withholding an attack on the entire Kanzaki gang. It's a nagging sensation, restlessness that Akabane can't name but knows instinctively what it is without needing to have it defined, and it bothers him in ways he'd rather not examine, let alone admit to.

He sighs again, softer this time, and gets out of the truck. He notices a wisp of lightning in the distance. It will rain again soon.

His night is not getting any better. Upstairs he happens to run into Ginji-kun, who's been out grocery-shopping and has just returned with an armful of goodies.

"Aka – Akabane-san! What happened to you?"

Usually this is cause for good cheer – being around Ginji-kun inexplicably fills him with a delight he can't begin to understand – but not tonight. Upon first sight of the benevolent Emperor the whispers surge in a tsunami of demanding violence.

_Raitei is the only one who can bring out your true strength fight him fight him yes you want to only he can give you what you need fight him he is meant for you FIGHT HIM –_

Akabane stops and forces every inch of his body into a frozen position, not daring to move and praying that Ginji-kun won't approach him, so frayed are his nerves at this instant that he dares not trust to self-restraint. "Ginji-kun," he says – whispers – in an amazingly even tone. "If you will forgive me, it has been a very long day. I need to rest."

_If ever you cared about me, Ginji-kun, you will leave me and return to the safety of your dwelling, lest I forget myself and lose all reason to my lust for blood –_

Something in Ginji-kun's eyes makes him think that he had heard the unspoken plea. The younger man steps back. "Ban-chan's home already. We made pizzas," he offers in the awkward silence that follows. He looks at one of the bags he's holding. "Well, um, I better put this ice cream in the fridge before it melts. G'night, Akabane-san." And he promptly disappears into his apartment.

Akabane ignores the pressure in his head and enters his own apartment. There is only one person who can help him now. Wishing he could strangle his concerns before they worsen he creeps through the darkened apartment, looking for his lover. "I'm home," he calls out softly in case Midou-kun is nearby.

A whiff of smoke makes his nose crinkle. "Out here," comes a voice from the small balcony at the edge of the living room. Akabane follows the smoke trail, where he finds Midou-kun perched on the ledge having his evening cigarette.

The other man cuts a striking profile against the night and the glow of streetlights. The sight leaves Akabane breathless, and the feeling that's been with him ever since he woke this morning with the old bloodlust surfaces with renewed vigor. This is his secret, what he doesn't want to admit to anyone, least of all himself.

He's found something here with this seductive snake of a man, something mysterious and intriguing that he doesn't want to lose, because if he breaks his promise Midou-kun will be angry enough to leave and then there will be no more fun, no excitement, no pleasure, because Midou-kun is a man of his word, a professional who has no compunctions about following his instincts if they tell him to go, and if Midou-kun leaves Ginji-kun will go with him and when Ginji-kun leaves he will take both light and life with him, and then Akabane will truly be –

"Alone at last," Midou-kun is saying as he swings his legs around and slides off the ledge to stand up. It's meant as a tired joke but there's no humor in the words. He looks worn himself, his shoulders sagging with an age-old weariness that doesn't suit one of his youth.

"How was your day?" Akabane ventures.

"Shitty. I told you Hevn's definition of easy was a bitch."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Midou-kun takes a drag on his cigarette. The tip glows orange as smoke curls off it and he looks at Akabane, watching him closely. "Today's not a good day for you either, is it?"

He _knows._ The way he's looking at him, the laser-like precision with which those blue eyes latch onto him…he's known ever since this morning how this day would play out. Wordlessly Akabane shakes his head, feeling both relief and tension – truly, the one who knows him best understands what compels him. Inside him the whispers are looping over and over, singing in greedy rhapsody.

Midou-kun sighs in resignation. "All right, let me finish my smoke here and we'll go."

Akabane's inner conflict swells to an uplifting flood of adrenaline dizzying in its high. Midou-kun is _fun_ to fight for two chief reasons: he doesn't hold back the way a gentler soul like Ginji-kun might, and his responses are always unexpected which means his opponent is constantly kept guessing as to what he'll do next. He shifts on his feet, barely able to contain his excitement as he watches his lover toke deeply on the lit cigarette, savoring its noxious fumes as if they were some sort of elixir. Already his own nostrils have begun to fill in memorable anticipation of a different scent, one heavy with metallic weight. Spill enough blood in any area, enclosed or open, and the stink lasts forever long after the stains have faded away.

The cigarette tip flares red with one last spark, and then it dims to a bare yellow before extinguishing. Midou-kun tosses it to the floor and steps on it with his boot. "I know a place."

He leads Akabane out of the apartment, and together they walk the streets of downtown. They don't speak – words cannot express what either is feeling at the moment, nor will they be of any help now. The storm is coming.

Lightning illuminates the empty lot when they come to it. It's large enough to provide a decent battlefield, although it's not an ideal space due to the uneven territory and the debris littering it. But it will do. By unspoken agreement they take up opposing sides. Akabane is trembling noticeably now and he must surely look a demented sight. He needs this, oh, how he needs it. Like water to a thirsty traveler, bread to a starving beggar, air for a gasping patient – the bloodlust is thundering razor-sharp in his veins with a warrior's cry for victory.

Midou-kun looks rather feral himself in that icy manner of his. "C'mon, you crazy son of a bitch, bring it to me," he taunts in a low tone, and Akabane needs no further urging to charge him with scalpels raised. He swings and his opponent dodges, whipping a hand back to snare Akabane by the wrist and whirl him around to meet a punch in the stomach. He catches it just before it can bury itself in his body and viciously twists the wrist. Midou-kun hisses and lets go but drives his knee up and in and Akabane feels the pain in his ribs, but it barely registers because he's reaching for the other with a handful of claws and the whispers are no longer whispers but banshees crying to the winds of their consuming hunger.

Teeth grinding, crunching with the strain of jaws clenched, heels digging stubbornly for purchase in the ground, whirling-flying-stabbing-slashing-punching-ripping in equal measures they tear at each other like a pair of alpha wolves gone rabid. Akabane's hat has long since fallen off and Midou-kun's glasses are missing and they're both losing substantial amounts of their clothing as it's being shredded in the chaos but neither of them is in any coherent shape to notice or care, while blood rains upon them and mixes with the now-pelting water from above with every blow struck, every weakness mercilessly exploited. Thunder and lightning – oh how beautiful you are in your rage Ginji-kun! – roar all around them and Akabane sword blazing in hand soars toward Midou-kun who's hurtling up to meet him with fangs extended for the kill and –

- and _what_ is Ginji-kun doing here!

"BAN-CHAN! AKABANE-SAN! _STOP IT!_"

- and impossibly, Jackal reverses his trajectory and sails with his reaper's scythe sizzling for the one he's lusted after, the mercurial and indefatigable lord of all storms, of fury and fire and infinitely electric _power_ born of a true Emperor – _"Raitei!"_

Time seems to slow to a sifting of sands, grain by excruciating grain as blinding light surrounds the area with only one figure central to Jackal's focus, only it's not the jackal's eye that's categorizing the events as they unfold, it's Kuroudo Akabane's, and he watches within himself with a vague fascination as his weapon swings at this form, the length running true in a blow aimed to plant the full kiss of death upon this being. A move that will quite possibly destroy Dr. Jackal as well, for who can claim complete knowledge of the godhood in all his mighty strength, those brown eyes shining with a purity that's so brilliant it hurts to see it, and surely his wrath will be extraordinary –

"Ban-chan!"

- and an unexpected savior spares him from Raitei's deathblow by leaping before his eyes to turn the scalding blade aside as it stabs through flesh and sinew, and with a stunning horror he realizes that somehow this person…both these people…has become – have become…something…something important to him? Something that means more, so much more than blood or killing or cynical amusement and if he drives this madness onward to its brutal sentence he'll lose that glimpse of heaven forever, never to be found anywhere else again, because of his foolishness, his carelessness in failing to see this gift for what it is, what it could be, a deliverance from the hell that gave birth to his eternal darkness...

For perhaps the first time, the _only_ time in Dr. Jackal's life, Akabane suddenly understands a fragment of what it means to care about a purpose so precious that one would cherish it above all else, and the revelation blasts him with mixed emotions so powerful he cries out though he does not know the words pouring forth –

_No! Midou-kun! _

- impulse, fierce and thundering with a new passion drives him to change his grip on the hilt of his sword, shift his feet so that he's no longer moving forward but wracking his body with a bone-jarring attempt to stop, and time _blinks_ into blurred motion and instinct is sweeping him away on its tidal waves and he can't think just react agony ripping through his muscles to reverse the strike and now the sword's free and pointed directly opposite burying its razor heat in pale flesh instead of snakehide.

The sword itself can't hurt him, of course. It's as much a part of him as anything else Akabane calls his own. But its tip is plenty sharp when not withdrawn in the usual manner, and the wounds that Midou-kun dealt him moments ago are still fresh, and that crimson blade sears itself anew in his blood as it pierces his chest.

Lightning cracks apart the night from the collision of Midou-kun's shock, Ginji-kun's astonishment and Akabane's scream, and then there is nothing left for any of them to feel but the cloaking shroud of darkness.

--

It's still raining when Akabane opens his eyes – how much later, he has no idea, but it must not have been too lengthy a time because it's still night and he's still lying in the abandoned lot. The wetness falling into his face, he realizes, isn't from the weather. It's coming from Ginji-kun who is hovering white-faced above him.

"Akabane-san…Ban-chan won't wake up…!"

It takes him a second to process those words and when he does coldness bores into his flesh not unlike the way his sword did earlier. Akabane clutches at Ginji-kun who stops crying long enough to help him up and they scramble over to where Midou-kun is sprawled motionless on his back.

Akabane is soaked to the bone with blood and water and so is his lover, the consequences of their battle. He stares unbelievingly at the results. Where is the exultation he ought to feel, the once-familiar satisfaction of having defeated his opponent? He may have won the fight, but at what cost?

What has he _done_?

In all the years he's been fighting he's never lost control like that before. The thought fills him with a deep dread that penetrates more viciously than any blade ever could. Control is all that stands between him and total depravity, which is why he's worked so hard, so tirelessly to perfect and craft and shape and polish an image until it fits as smoothly as silk to hide the hideous truth beneath.

Heart pounding, he leans over Midou-kun and brushes wet brown hair away from his face, searching desperately for signs of life. Memories assail Akabane in jagged edges and acrid scents, born of a time he once lived through even though it's now thought of as sleepwalking from a place he never really existed in and is remembered only sporadically. But he knows they're part of him because the proof of his existence is in these bloody mementoes, in the horror they regurgitate as he looks upon the battered body of his lover.

_he's dying not again so much blood it's all there is I can't bear it a second time blood and death everywhere please Midou-kun is there anything else worth living for live for me stay with me don't leave me to die too_

Ginji-kun must sense the nature of the thoughts he's having if the stricken expressions on either of their faces can be trusted. Past and present clash in Akabane's mind and he utters a broken keening, slumping over Midou-kun with all the weight of the world closing in on and suffocating him.

_What has he done?_

"…get off me, Jackal…"

The words are faint and don't register at first, until Ginji-kun squeals loudly. "BAN-CHAN!" Startled, Akabane raises his head and finds himself looking into weary but dazzling blue eyes untainted by his brush with Charon.

Midou-kun tries to smirk and winces as his split lip oozes blood. "Ow, fuck," he mutters. "Jackal, you wanna get your ass off me? I'm lookin' at some busted ribs here, I swear."

Upon seeing the other man awaken Akabane is only too delighted to comply with his request, shifting his body to one side so that he isn't lying halfway on top of his lover. He does, however, pull off his gloves and clasp Midou-kun's face in his bare hands, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. Only holding him, resting their wet and stained faces against one another for that physical reassurance he seeks as proof that this is real and not just a dream while he closes his eyes and lets a thrilling relief sweep through him.

Midou-kun is _alive._

Ginji-kun's good humour has also been restored. No sooner does Akabane slowly draw back to allow Midou-kun some breathing room than he piles on top of them both, clamping his arms around them in a near-full body hug.

"GAH! GINJI!"

"Ban-chan!" Ginji-kun quickly lets go and falls back onto his knees. "We almost thought you were a goner," he hiccups between happy sniffles.

"Fuck that shit," Midou-kun replies, his voice barely a rasp but vibrant at its core. Given enough time and with proper maintenance he ought to make a full recovery. "It'll take more than a stupid thunderstorm to get rid of the invincible Ban Midou-sama."

"Thunderstorm?" Akabane says, puzzled. "But Raitei wasn't aiming for you."

"It wasn't Raitei, Akabane-san," Ginji-kun hastens to explain. "Right after you stabbed Ban-chan and yourself this big bolt of lightning came down and nearly fried the two of you guys. That's how come you got knocked unconscious. I wasn't affected since – "

" – Since you're a friggin' electric eel," Midou-kun finishes with affectionate sarcasm.

Ginji-kun beams, taking no offense whatsoever at the epithet. "Yup!"

Akabane looks in confusion at them. "But I saw Raitei…"

Midou-kun raises a bloodied hand and strokes Akabane's cheek. "I think," he says quietly, "that was what a part of you _wanted_ to see, so you made yourself believe in it. It's amazing what the mind can convince itself of when it's locked onto something…"

Dampness runs into Akabane's eyes as rain streaks down his skin. He blinks it away and looks at Ginji-kun. "Then how – "

" – Did I know to follow you guys?" Ginji-kun's gaze turns somber. "Ban-chan and I got to talking while we were on our assignment today. He said you weren't feeling well and I asked him what was wrong. He told me he could smell this kind of weird aura around you and that it reminded him of 'rattlesnakes in the twilight void.' Whatever that means," he says, glancing at Midou-kun. "But we kinda figured you hadn't had a very good day and when you came home looking all messed up I thought I'd better stick close just in case."

If it hadn't been for the momentary distraction Ginji-kun's presence provided Dr. Jackal might well have slaughtered Midou-kun, Akabane thinks. Truly he owes Ginji-kun a great debt of gratitude. "Your concern is very…touching, Ginji-kun," he says softly in thanks, for it's all he has strength for as far as words are concerned.

Midou-kun stirs in Akabane's embrace. "So. While we were chasing phantoms and getting our asses slogged by guard dogs, what were you doing that had you slicing and dicing?"

Akabane tells them about the troublesome mission involving the now-defunct protection service.

Midou-kun's eyebrow raises but other than that he doesn't seem terribly surprised. "Kanzaki. Yeah, I've heard of that bunch. Their leader's a real prick. Or was, heh. From what I've heard bets were being taken on how long it was gonna be before somebody decided to give him a permanent attitude adjustment." He ruffles Akabane's wet hair. "I'm not mad at you, so relax. No Snakebites for you this time." His arm falls back to earth and he groans suddenly, eyes slipping shut from battle fatigue. "Guh. Damn. What's _in_ that bloody sword of yours? Feels like grit I can't get out from under my skin…"

"I can fix this," Akabane assures him, worriedly checking the river of red streaming down his front. So much blood… A shiver scuttles along his spine, reminding him of how close he – they – came to losing everything. "Don't you leave me now, Midou-kun. I'll follow you wherever you go," Akabane whispers, echoes of a warning he once gave the other that now mean another promise entirely.

Midou-kun doesn't open his eyes but he does manage to roll his head from side to side in a limp shake. "No, Jackal. I'm not goin' anywhere for a long while." A thought occurs to him then and he lifts his eyelids partway and asks, "What were you transporting, anyway?"

"Some ancient samurai armor. We were to deliver it to an antiquities collector."

His lover sighs. "Better that than a fucking piece of fruit. I _would_ be pissed if you told me I'd gotten my ass kicked over something stupid like that."

"Fruit?"

"Remember the job where we first met you and Himiko-chan, Akabane-san?" Ginji-kun says helpfully. "The Get Backers got hired to bring back platinum…melon-fruit. Yeah, we weren't happy about it either." He makes a face to match the disbelief in Akabane's expression and then brightens. "It was good fruit though…"

"With the money that old fart was offering us to get it back we could've bought a dozen melons," Midou-kun says sourly, and closes his eyes again. "Ah, shit, take me home, you two. I've had it for the night."

He's not the only one. With the chaos of battle now settled and the aftermath of evaporating stress, a deep and thorough exhaustion sinks into the marrow of his bones and Akabane is tempted to lie down on the ground alongside his lover, let the sandman take them both and have Ginji-kun keep watch. But the inclement weather would not be good for anyone and it's hardly conducive to healing. This is something that, despite his weariness, Akabane fully plans to mete out as soon as they get home – his original talents haven't dulled any even though he no longer officially practices them.

It will take some doing but with time and care and possibly Ginji-kun's help, he will nurse Midou-kun back to health. And maybe now the whispers will stay sated…

Maybe.

For a while…

Akabane pays no attention to the rain as it beats down on them, gathering his battered lover into his arms to carry him back to their apartment. Ginji-kun trails close behind like a lost puppy, carrying Akabane's hat and "Ban-chan's" glasses, which he somehow managed to find like the proverbial needle in that haystack of an open field. Midou-kun has passed out and lolls like a rag doll in his hold, bleeding and bruised limbs swaying like a marionette's loose joints. Akabane tastes warm saltiness trickling down his face and is grateful for the cover of darkness.

It started as whispers, and ends in…tears.


	14. Crossroads

Title: Crossroads

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #25 – "fence"

Rating: PG-13 (violence, m/m pairing)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor canonical mentions concerning major characters' abilities.

Notes: Sorry to have gotten another of these out late; RL has not been kind to me (and by association, the muses) lately.

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.

Summary: Presented with a choice, Akabane must decide which path is more interesting.

--

_Sunday_

There are things that Akabane Kuroudo knows, and then there are things that he _knows. _Instincts follow a different sort of inspiration than cold logic, so when his senses snap to alertness he doesn't think twice about it, he pulls out a handful of scalpels and approaches the truck with stealthy precision.

Someone has been here recently, and it wasn't Maguruma. Nor was it Lady Poison, or the client who hired them to transport a package. The intent surrounding the traces of the presence is...not malignant, Dr. Jackal decides. But it isn't wholly benign either, and his blood quivers with predatory anticipation.

Maguruma comes out from the building, followed by Lady Poison. They spot him with his knives out and freeze in place, Lady Poison's vial of flame perfume uncapped and already poised in her fingers in the blink of an eye. There is no need for words among them; they are so used to working with one another by now that gestures, eye contact suffice as communication, and somehow they all seem to understand and interpret correctly what one partner is telling another.

Akabane motions to them – it is safe for the moment to come closer, but be on guard – and circles the passenger side of the vehicle. The presence is fresh but not too obvious. Perhaps an hour old, hour and a half at most. Enough time to have gotten away after having done...whatever its owner was planning.

The idea of sabotage makes Maguruma's fist tighten – he's understandably protective about his truck, which he views as more than just his means of gainful employment. He thinks of it almost as a cherished family member. He catches Akabane's eye and the other shakes his head. Tampering doesn't appear to have taken place, although Akabane is not a mechanic and would therefore not swear to such assurance.

The three transporters cautiously surround the truck, inspecting it at all angles to be sure no one has left them any nasty surprises. Nothing is found, however, and they move their search to the interior. Examination reveals nothing inside the cab either. How odd.

Maguruma is first to break the silence. You think maybe Yamamoto's having us watched? Could he be a double agent?

Akabane shakes his head, frowning slightly as he's half in thought. I felt something...someone...nearby, he says. Watching, yes...at least for now.

Lady Poison hasn't recapped her vial. What should we do?

Akabane shrugs. What else can we do but carry on with our job? If there is something afoot it will reveal itself to us in due time.

Indeed, the assignment is carried out without a hitch. It's only after the work has been finished and the trio is on their way back that the surprise is exposed.

It happens when Lady Poison asks Dr. Jackal for a bottle of water from the cooler, which is sitting in the rear of the cab where Akabane usually rides. He lifts the lid to fetch the beverage and his hand stills as he regards the bit of material atop it with an aggrieved flutter of pulse.

The black triangle is hardly the worse for wear ever since that notorious cut was made. In fact, it looks as though it's been well-kept, perhaps sealed in a storage container of some type. A souvenir...a trophy...

A message.

Akabane feels a sudden, surprising flash of anger, which he quickly tamps down before its surge mars his serene expression.

He – _they_ – purposely left it there for him to find.

The steel glint in his eyes now shuttered, Akabane picks up the missing piece of his hat and folds his fingers over it, keeping it hidden from his comrades' sight as he passes the bottled water to Lady Poison. He sits back down and studies the triangular shape in his gloved palm, turning it over a few times between his long fingers before crushing it in his grasp.

It is what he has always suspected would happen someday. Babylon has come back for him.

--

In the wee hours of the night, Akabane is dancing.

As patterns go it's an elegant waltz at the speed of light, elaborate choreography timed to match the steps of his momentary partner. Usually this dance is fraught with enough peril to keep him summarily interested if not excited, but this time it's just bothersome. However, this boredom is a necessary evil if he's to learn why the Observer summoned him for an audience.

Did you like my gift, doctor?

An unusual token of appreciation, no? I wonder what else you have in mind for those you are interested in...

Come back to Babylon and you will see, Kagami says between the glistening flakes of diamond dust he scatters on a lethal breeze.

No, Akabane says as he hurls a barrage of knives at the nearest reflection. There is no longer anything of interest in that place.

You could be a god, Kagami replies, his tone suggestive in a way that brings to mind that of an indulgent parent attempting to bribe a belligerent child.

Akabane laughs at that, a cold, sharp sound. What use have I for godhood, he says, when I lie with one and walk beside another? Your kind are all the same, always have been and will be. I keep nothing that is useless to me. What is useless is boring, and what is boring is fit to be discarded.

Kagami smiles as cuttingly as one of his glass shards. Is that why you have taken up with the Jagan master and the Raitei, and their loyal subjects? They are useful, these...'Get Backers'? What, I wonder, do you think they can 'get back' that you might be missing, dear doctor...?

He flings a handful of mirrors at Akabane. They promptly shape and stretch themselves into carbon copies of their owner, each with the same capabilities as the original source. The clones slice at Akabane who manages to repel them with one swing of his Bloody Sword.

It is not a question of getting back anything. I have all I need. I want for nothing, unlike you in your gilded cage.

It's Kagami's turn to laugh. Ah, but I am open about my desires. Can you honestly say the same for yourself, you with your professed craving for entertainment? Or is it escape that drives you, with such a seemingly insatiable appetite for distraction?

Akabane almost sneers. Such insolence, claiming to be open about his motives when the man is anything but. Small wonder Kagami seems to be universally disliked by both those who know him and those who don't. Jealousy does not suit you, Kagami-kun, he says.

Kagami poses a little, turning this way and that – the better to generate more confusing reflections with his mirroring abilities. It isn't jealousy if it's the truth. What is your truth, Akabane-san?

You will know my truth soon enough, when you lie at my feet in many pieces.

A surprisingly bitter laugh erupts from the other man. Come now, Doctor Jackal. Let us drop all pretenses and be honest with each other for once. We are both men of power, men of keen observation. We wait and keep vigil for what concerns us. Why else would we do so unless there is something in it for us besides mere entertainment? Enjoyment is cheap and easily found...tangible gains are a different matter altogether.

Akabane feels a prickling of distaste and glares at him. What do you stand to gain by this, then?

Kagami smiles, not unpleasantly. More like it's a question of what _you_ might gain. You would know the truth of your power, no?

Akabane stops flinging scalpels long enough to ponder this. He cannot deny that he is very much interested in learning all that his strange abilities can do. It's what first brought him to the Get Backers, after all...

And then there is the matter of _the other_...

True, I would know how far my strength extends. However, Kagami-kun, I cannot help but feel that your offer of assistance hides ulterior motives. It would be just like you, wouldn't it, to conceal your true objective behind those dazzling mirrors of yours.

You can say that this is so, and that it is not, the Observer replies coolly. But unless you find out for yourself you'll never know, now, will you?

Hmph. Spoken like a true provocateur. But he has to admit, the man has a point...

Kagami smiles slyly as he dodges another scalpel. Take your time. Think about it. I would hate for you to feel forced into a decision. Your glory has yet to ripen...

Akabane starts to say something but in the next instant the form that is the Observer dissolves into sparkling dust as Kagami retreats with his usual lack of proper leave-taking. Polite enough though he might be, the other man's elusiveness remains evident in addition to his penchant for cryptic statements that are as maddening as they are arousing.

A disappointed Akabane sheathes his scalpels, left to walk the shadowy trail of the infinite fortress that whispers temptation all through its forbidding walls.

To know the limits of his own power, at long last...that's been his ideal goal for ages. But lofty ideals are not achieved without hard work and sacrifice, and while he has put in plenty of the former, he wonders, not without some concern, what sort of sacrifice he would have to make in order to have his dream finally within reach.

--

_Tuesday_

Midou-kun and Akabane are taking a stroll through the park when Dr. Jackal gets a call.

His cell phone is always set to silent vibration instead of a ringtone, lest he disturb any who happen to be in his presence. He feels a buzzing sensation in one pocket and rifles through his coat lining to retrieve it.

I'll go on ahead, Midou-kun says upon noticing the insistent phone. Gonna get one of those sandwiches before they sell out.

Akabane nods and looks at the lighted display while Midou-kun charges off in the direction of the mobile vendor at the far end of the park. The number is one from Mugenjou, of all places. A young male's voice greets him on the other line when he answers.

Makubex-kun has some interesting information to pass on.

Akabane listens closely, eyes slowly traversing the radius of the area as if he's scanning for something – which, in a way, he is. He likes to be aware of his immediate environment at all times as a precautionary measure. And given the news he's receiving this is likely a wise action.

There is a plot under way to kidnap Midou-kun. Makubex-kun doesn't have many details other than that it will involve the retrieval assignment Akabane's lover is scheduled to attend to several days from now. The method the kidnappers will use hasn't been determined but the boy genius believes they will opt for a transport service – one that has yet to be officially named, but certain variables have already been spoken of - to spring the attack, which will culminate in the handover of Midou-kun to the Brain Trust.

Makubex-kun pauses and then adds, I thought you would want to know because of your involvement.

It takes Akabane a few seconds to process the boy's meaning. Time seems to stand still for a heartbeat, like the breath held between lovers before that first kiss. He looks up and sees Midou-kun sitting at a picnic table grinning like the cat that got the cream. He's holding a huge sandwich in his hands and looking like he'll Snakebite anybody that dares ask him for a taste.

Akabane absently thanks Makubex-kun for his information and ends the call.

He blinks, starts walking towards the picnic table as though drawn by an unconscious force. The air has a stale quality to it and he feels like he's just been dropped into a bubble with that phone call, the invisible membrane separating him from reality in a hairsbreadth. And then it's over in the next second when Midou-kun glances up from his food and pops that bubble with a growled, Get your own, Jackal, this one's mine.

He could do it. He knows how to render someone helpless as well as dead. The human body is as incredibly fragile as it is resilient. The full challenge of taking on a man as powerful and dangerous as Midou-kun would bring...indescribable enjoyment, a pleasure that would remain memorable and unsurpassed for a long time.

According to the Observer, this is what he wants...isn't it?

There was a time not long ago when Akabane would have replied unhesitatingly in a manner that left no doubt as to his true desire. But things have changed these last several months and introduced a curious new factor into his life, and now...now he's not so sure what it is that he does want.

How...frustrating, this...weakness.

How...exciting, this...force.

Engaged in his thoughts Akabane is only half-listening to Midou-kun as the other man is suddenly fending off a stray sparrow that has expressed its interest in part of his sandwich. His lover fumes in between impossibly huge bites that that Damned Monkey Trainer must have been granted temporary freedom from his girlfriend's leash and is taking out his frustrations on Midou-kun by sending this reckless bird to taunt him.

Everyone has their dilemmas, it seems.

--

Midou-kun is in the mood for romance, and he proves it by taking Akabane to bed that night. With all that's on his mind the latter isn't really interested at first, but a few touches here, some teasing kisses there – Midou-kun knows just how to play him this way – and soon he's sighing into his lover's embrace, letting him divest him of his clothes and lure him towards their bed. They nuzzle and caress each other with increasing urgency as their passion hits a flashpoint, and Midou-kun swiftly draws him down to the mattress and covers his body with his own.

Akabane finds himself surrendering eagerly as a hot mouth claims his lips and possessive hands slither along his skin, causing him to moan with desire. He never used to find sex particularly noteworthy until he met Midou-kun. For all his supposed cold-bloodedness this is one snake that thrives in the heat. A soft cry echoes in the room as completion coils, constricts and releases throughout his whole being. Midou-kun's husky growl quickly follows on the waning edges of Akabane's voice.

They couple two more times after that, each time sharing the wild ride through that peak and beyond as they clutch at each other. It's like simultaneously falling and rising at once, blood racing with that intense high and spiraling through it at a dizzying rate before floating into blissful relaxation. Midou-kun is especially exciting when he's serious in bed.

At last when they both lie sated and spent, limbs and bodies tangled together in a sweaty embrace, Midou-kun thinks to ask him what he's been so preoccupied with lately.

Akabane hesitates. He knows Midou-kun will see through a lie instantly, but he doesn't want to tell him the whole truth either. Therefore the best story is one that's a mixture of both honesty and deceit. Makubex-kun called, he says calmly. He wanted some contact information on a protection service I have dealt with before.

Midou-kun seems to accept this, as he stretches comfortably and yawns. Wonder what computer-boy's up to now. He didn't ask for the Mirokus, I hope.

No, I don't believe that Natsuhiko-kun and his siblings are involved.

Good. Last thing I need with this job coming up is to worry about whether or not the merry gang of seven is gonna crawl up my ass when I'm not expecting it. Yukihiko's all right, but Natsuhiko doesn't fuck around with business, lemme tell you.

Akabane smiles, having seen that man in action once before. Yes, the Mirokus are certainly formidable. You know I'd like to meet with them someday, don't you?

Ha. They'd eat your balls for breakfast, Jackal.

Maybe. Maybe not. Fighting one opponent is nice, but don't you think it would be even more entertaining to duel with seven at the same time?

Midou-kun laughs and ruffles his lover's hair. You really are a glutton for punishment, aren't you?

I just like to have fun, that's all.

Midou-kun pounces on him, teeth nipping playfully at his neck. I'll show you fun.

Akabane promptly forgets all about Makubex-kun's call.

--

_Wednesday_

The next day brings no ease in Akabane's state of mind. He tries to dwell on other things, like a possible job one of his regular mediators – not Hevn-san, incidentally – is thinking of offering him, but he continues to find himself musing over Kagami's invitation and what Makubex-kun told him. If someone is going to the trouble of delivering Midou-kun to the City, it must be an interesting plan, one that will surely involve intense fighting on both parties' sides.

Yet the thought of these specters swooping down from their hawk's nest to spirit his lover away doesn't sit well with Akabane. He feels strangely...unsettled, despite the high prospects for bloodshed. If Babylon wants Midou-kun it can't be for any pleasant purpose, this much he senses.

With this in mind Akabane decides to pay one of his cohorts a visit. Most people might be reluctant to seek advice from a sixteen-year-old girl, but he has learned that wise counsel can be found in the oddest of places, and Himiko-san is unusually perceptive for one her age. Not only that, but she is a worthy partner in crime, and will have connections that could come in useful.

He finds her at the small abandoned warehouse she has turned into an apartment, in the garage area she calls her workshop. This is where she stores her vehicles – the motorcycle she favors and a vintage automobile she claims once belonged to her deceased brother. It's also the place where she concocts her fragrances, the mysterious and often dangerous poison perfumes she uses as her primary weapons. Today the air is fraught with spices and bubbling liquids in addition to the scents of engine oil and exhaust fumes. Himiko-san is replenishing her stores.

She nods at him as she comes to let him inside the garage, and then into the sealed room she restricts her perfume brewery to. It's getting harder to track you, Jackal, she says by way of greeting.

Oh? He smiles politely at her as she indicates a seat nearby.

You don't smell so much of blood like you used to, she replies.

Interesting, that. But not so surprising – the mistress of scents can ably distinguish odors she regularly comes into contact with, as befits her formidable skills. Akabane just smiles and sits primly in the scuffed plastic chair, settling himself to watch Lady Poison at work.

They spend several minutes in companionable silence, both knowing that this is not just a social call, but that one will not speak until the words are ready to be shared. Finally Himiko-san takes the initiative. I assume you aren't here to discuss a new mission.

Akabane watches her as she measures out spoonfuls of a grainy ingredient. Not unless you know of one at hand, he answers.

It's been quiet this last week, she says.

Perhaps not so this upcoming weekend. Akabane tells her about Makubex-kun's call and she listens, saying nothing as she tends the currently-cooking recipes and measures and fills more ingredients for various other perfumes.

When he is through Himiko-san turns around and folds her arms across her chest, giving him a cool appraisal. I don't see what your problem is, Jackal.

Akabane frowns slightly. Isn't it obvious?

Heh. Ban can take care of himself. Anyone coming at him with felonious intent from a hundred yards away will get Snakebitten or Jaganed in an instant.

Perhaps. Akabane's eyes wander towards the window where the daylight streams in. He thinks otherwise - experience has taught him to beware unusual activity from the upper echelons of Babylon. The Trust can be exceedingly dangerous when they want something. Witness what they began in order to silence Makubex-kun, for instance...

That gives her pause. Though she did not deal directly with some of its members, she remembers well how close a shave their last major trip to Mugenjou was. Still, she straightens her shoulders and insists, From what I understand, they don't usually leave that place, and when they do they don't venture any further than the boundaries of Mugenjou. They'd have to send outsiders to do it, and the people they hire will likely be common thugs. Not much of a stretch for either Ban or Ginji to take down in a fight.

Akabane mulls this over while he studies his sometime work partner carefully. I imagine that in this case they'll want someone more...professional. Someone who can match the Get Backers in strength and speed and cunning. He purposely pauses before saying, Someone like Dr. Jackal.

To her credit Himiko-san doesn't blanch at that possibility. She keeps her gaze even while she asks, Wouldn't that be a conflict of interests?

Akabane doesn't answer at first. He looks down at the floor, watching his toe draw steady lines across the tile. It depends on what the interest at stake is, he finally says, brushing aside the niggling doubt that tugs at the inside of his chest.

I see. There's a long stretch of silence before she says anything else. I guess it all depends then on what your interest is.

She scuffs her heel on the floor and recrosses her arms. Anyway, worst-case scenario aside, even if someone does make an attempt on Ban, they'll have to go through you first, won't they?

Despite his somber outlook Akabane smiles, but it's only a flicker. Midou-kun does not like it when I do that, he responds.

She looks at him for a while, her expressive eyes – a lovely blend of bluish-green and purple – trying to categorize him the way she analyzes her perfume mixtures. You really have changed, haven't you? she says slowly, a kind of faint wonder in her tone.

Curious, Akabane tilts his head. Changed? He considers this and decides it has some merit. He wonders if this is supposed to be a good thing, an enjoyable thing. It doesn't feel _un_pleasant, at least...

Before, you wouldn't have cared what others thought. Himiko-san looks wary, but a tiny quirk of her lips suggests that she is pleased by this development, even if she is concerned that it is too good to be true.

Akabane isn't sure whether to feel oddly pleased that she approves, or insulted that she is insinuating that he has fallen victim to a weakness he prefers not to think of. Do not think that I lack the will to do what must be done, he cautions her, letting a scalpel slide partway through his fingers for emphasis.

Oh, I never doubted _that_ for a second, she replies wryly, turning back to her workbench.

Akabane replaces his knife and stews quietly in his thoughts. What to do...what to do... He doesn't like the idea of handing his lover over to Babylon as part of a transporting assignment, but the temptation of a truly glorious fight – for Midou-kun will almost certainly not go as a willing captive if indeed Dr. Jackal is the one hired for the job – is terribly enticing...

Kagami-kun says that I could learn my truth if I were to accept such a mission, he murmurs offhandedly.

Himiko-san's tone takes on a mild but definite chill when she answers him. You'd believe anything that arrogant spy tells you?

Akabane frowns again. The man is not immediately forthcoming with his intentions, but he has no cause to lie outright to me...

He doesn't have to lie. All it takes is the right twist of words to reflect how he wants someone to react. He's a born manipulator – all anyone ever receives from his glass are distortions.

You sound as though you speak from quite a bit of experience, Himiko-san.

She bows her head and briefly stills her actions. He knows what he pretends not to, she answers slowly, something in her voice hinting that this goes into a more personal nature than she would prefer. His name is as his weapons...but what that man most reminds me of is a spider. He spins his shining web, and then retreats to his watcher's roost. He leaves threads in his wake for others to follow, and they don't realize how blinding that glitter is until he appears from nowhere and sinks his fangs into them.

An elegant brow arches above a purple eye. A most _interesting_ summary, I must admit, Himiko-san.

The muted hiss of steam and gurgling bubbles from a nearby beaker fill the silence that follows, and the rhythm seems to carry a lone portent best left unspoken of:

_voodoo_

Akabane's frown and doubt deepen the more he thinks on Himiko-san's words. He is reminded of something the Professor once said, that the Brain Trust is only one of the factions, albeit a fractured one, involved in the power struggle for Babylon and Mugenjou. Allies are of paramount importance and loyalties are thus concealed...though Kagami professes to have no other interest save that of idle observance, though he has dangled intriguing tidbits before Dr. Jackal like bait to a shark, he is known to keep his own fascinations, one of which Akabane is currently speaking with.

And let not this damning trivia be forgotten: Kagami also happens to be a member of that very group which once sought to quell Makubex-kun's rebellion, which now seeks to eliminate Midou-kun, Akabane's lover...

...Midou-kun, who has brought him a unique pleasure he has never known before, one that he has become inexplicably addicted to and now cannot imagine going without, because it's so..._interesting_...

In a bowl, Himiko-san grinds a red powder into fine dust. She says, I don't know what Kagami's game is, Akabane, but I do know that I wouldn't trust that man any further than I could throw him. She pauses, and adds with a sigh, But you'll do as you will, I suppose. You always have...

Details crystallize in Akabane's mind at that moment, and he looks up with a strange amethyst spark in his eyes. _Yes,_ he thinks to himself, _I certainly will._

Himiko-san turns to reach for another container and accidentally brushes her elbow against a row of bottled perfumes, sending several of them toppling over. Dammit!

One of the little vials is rolling across the table towards the edge. Akabane is up from his seat in an instant and catches it before it can tumble off the surface.

Himiko-san is visibly relieved. Thanks, Jackal.

He takes a closer look at the bottle he's righted. Small wonder she's grateful for his assistance. It's one of her deadlier perfumes, the erosion scent. This is a newer version, one that acts faster with longer-lasting results. It instantly corrupts and destroys anything its fragrance and liquid come into contact with, so acidic is its poison.

An idea begins to form in Akabane's mind. He turns the stoppered vial over in his fingers, regarding its shimmering contents thoughtfully. Will this work on anything? he asks.

As far as I know, Himiko-san replies as she finishes picking up the rest of the bottles that were knocked over.

What about weapons?

She gives him a suspicious look but is kind enough to answer his question. I know there's at least one type of alloy that it doesn't seem to have much of an effect on but other than that it's very effective at ruining almost any weapon or material exposed to it.

I see. How fascinating. What sort of matter is hardy enough to withstand this perfume?

Planning on a fight, are you? Himiko-san says dryly. But she names the substance for his benefit anyway.

Still studying the bottle of poison in his fingers Akabane smiles, a calculating expression that sends chills down the spines of those who see it. I wonder, Himiko-san, if you would permit me this one indulgence. And by the way, might you also happen to have a phone number still in your possession...?

--

_Friday_

Late afternoon swells upon the city in a swirl of grey haze. It's been raining off and on during the week and the humidity hangs heavily in the air. Although annoying, this discomfort ultimately makes no difference to Akabane – rain or shine, he never fails to show up for a job when he has accepted one.

Neither does his driver, Mr. No-Brakes, who pulls up at the outer edges of Mugenjou precisely at the arranged time. He parks the truck and looks at his passengers. Should I wait here or do we meet elsewhere? he asks.

I would appreciate it if you'd wait. This shouldn't take long, Akabane assures him. He looks to the other person with them, at the case she's brought along.

She smiles and inclines her head in a slight nod. Everything is prepared as you requested, Dr. Jackal.

Thank you. Truly, it was most kind of you to agree to accommodate me on such short notice.

No trouble at all. It has been a most enjoyable creation, this latest masterpiece. Spiraling curls wreathe a petite face in a soft cloud of silver as she directs a startlingly green gaze towards the ominous towers ahead of them. If what you have told me is true, then this ought to be a very rewarding work of art indeed.

Indeed. Akabane smiles and accepts the case the woman hands to him. He adjusts his hat with his free hand and exits the truck with a squaring of shoulders.

It's time to go and have some _fun._

--

Navigating Mugenjou's labyrinth is no easy feat, even for one such as Dr. Jackal. The networks of passages and living spaces change almost on an overnight basis, what with the two worlds repeatedly colliding, and if it isn't arcane doings then it's because battle-oriented makeovers have altered the landscapes. Since the inception of Makubex-kun's new Volts the violence in Lower Town has significantly decreased, but the boy in spite of all his wizardry is still no invincible ruler, and when Babylon isn't instigating trouble rumor has it that the Beltline is cultivating fresh mischief.

Even so Akabane makes do, knowing full well that his every move is being tracked, as it has been from the moment he set foot on no-man's-land. He expects a welcoming committee to appear at any time, and despite his practiced coolness a scalpel occasionally pokes its tip through his fingers and has to be returned to its resting place.

Fortunately he doesn't have long to wait before the boredom becomes tedious. A tiny twinkling of diamonds in the air is all the warning he has before a figure solidifies at his back. Well, well. I hadn't thought you'd return so soon, doctor.

Akabane says nothing and keeps walking. Midou-kun taught him that in this sort of situation the rule of a master predator is to always let the prey make the first, and thus fatal, move.

A hint of razor-like smile curls the mirror-master's lips. Hey, it's rude to ignore somebody when they're talking to you, he says, right before taking a swipe with his glass shard.

It hits across the upper torso and cuts cleanly through. Kagami chuckles, a smug sound that tapers off when he realizes something isn't right: though the body is now sagging to the floor there is no spray of blood to accompany the wound dealt to it. Before his eyes material frays and disintegrates, leaving behind only a black trenchcoat and hat over a pile of clay rubble.

Oh, to have a camera handy to record this moment! Kagami's look is priceless. Akabane emerges from his cocoon of shadows and looks with delight at the crumbled shell of his duplicate. Clayman-san has done her work well. Lovely, isn't it?

An illusion...? But the aura I detected was yours...what I sensed...!

He turns but not fast enough. The Observer gets his blood all right, but not the way he was expecting to. A crack and a thud and Kagami goes down hard on his knees as Akabane pauses for just a second to admire the smear of red on his fist before attacking again. He plants a solid kick in the other man's abdomen that sends him tumbling across the floor, gasping in pain.

Get up. Fight me.

Now!?

I'll wait, Akabane says with a grim smile.

Kagami is pressing both hands to his face, groaning loudly. You broke my nose!

Good, then maybe you'll think twice before sticking it into places it doesn't belong. Have you no manners at all?

Kagami struggles to his feet, glaring daggers at Akabane. That's awfully smug criticism coming from someone who makes his living chopping people up with knives.

Ah, but that is business, Kagami-kun. Amethyst eyes harden ever so slightly. This is personal. With that he delivers a punishing blow to the Observer's jaw.

Kagami grunts from the force but he hasn't time to dwell on it, because attacks are raining down upon him faster than he can generate enough glass to repel them. The bloodied mirror master stumbles, trying to avoid another blow. He chokes as the pain of it hits an already opened wound. Since when did you become a pugilist?!

Since I've decided that you are boring to me, Akabane says flippantly, and spins again while driving a boot straight into Kagami's knee. The sickening crunch is promptly drowned out by the other man's scream.

However, your blood does make quite a pleasing arrangement once it's been spilled on that white suit of yours. I do hope you know a good dry cleaner. Akabane smiles coldly down at his writhing opponent.

The last time we met in battle you ran away from me. I do not care for a repeat of such rudeness.

Fury mottles Kagami's otherwise handsome face. I wasn't being rude, only prudent. Surely a professional like yourself would understand that. He suddenly lifts a hand bristling with mirror shards, but a scalpel hurtling through the air pins his palm to the floor before the glass is released. Kagami howls.

You speak such sweetness just before you attempt to sting me with your venom. Do not think I will fall for your duplicity a second time, Kagami-kun.

You don't realize what a mistake you're making. You could have finally had the answers within your grasp...could've had power beyond your wildest imagined dreams...

Power has its price, Kagami-kun. I daresay the tithe your masters would demand is more than I am prepared to part with. Akabane retrieves his knife and picks the injured Observer up by his shirt collar, dragging him to a standing position against the wall where he promptly nails Kagami in place with a series of scalpels.

No J in the back for me?

He'll give the man this much credit, he's gutsy in the face of death. Akabane stares at him. No, Kagami-kun. Not _this _time, he says, emphasizing the second word. However...

A streak of light in the darkness and the scalpel exits and rises in Dr. Jackal's hand. Kagami's eyes widen and his nose twitches as he catches a blistering scent wafting from the new blade's tip. It took Akabane quite a bit of experimentation and switching out of weaponry, but eventually he figured out a way to merge the special alloy Himiko-san told him of with her improved erosion perfume. Now that both have been combined with his blood he has a rather interesting weapon to play with, and how _fortunate_ it is for Kagami that he will be the first one to help him try it out.

I know that you like to watch, and that is perfectly understandable. But there is a fine line between voyeurism and interference, one that you have crossed too many times, Kagami-kun. Let this be a lesson to you – to _them_ - to refrain from bothering my interests in the future. I will not be as lenient should any of you choose to annoy me again.

Blood bubbles, oozes through the burn as the knife sizzles through air and into flesh as perfect as clear glass. Kagami's screams echo off the walls. Luckily for him he prefers wearing his hair on the longish side, so enduring curious stares probably won't be a serious problem for him.

Akabane recalls the acid-tipped scalpel, as well as its cousins holding his prey to the wall, and the marked Observer drops to the floor as the good doctor imparts a bit of friendly advice. You may wish to consider forgoing earrings until it stops bleeding, Kagami-kun. Though I'm told that the poison's aftereffects last for quite some time...

Kagami glares up at him, fists clenched to keep from grasping at the red that's seeping down his neck from the permanent J tattooed on his right ear. He knows without being told that if he touches it with his bare fingers the erosion will spread.

Akabane smiles, pleased with his work. He picks up his trenchcoat and hat and dons them once more, making a mental note to add a generous gratuity to Clayman-san's bill for the fine job she has done in sculpting his twin. He spares his bloody victim a parting look as he turns to take his leave.

One more thing. Stay away from Himiko-san. You are an unfit consort for her.

Kagami hisses lowly, silken sibilance thrumming in its deadly promise. You bastard! As if you have any room to judge people!

Akabane continues to walk away, the insult rolling off of his black-clad form as smoothly as water from a duck's back. Goodbye, Kagami-kun. I trust we won't need to have this conversation again.

--

It's still early enough for dinner to be ready by the time Akabane returns home, having been dropped off by Maguruma after they deposited Clayman-san at her art gallery on the way back. Coming inside the apartment he smells tomato sauce and garlic – Midou-kun is cooking. Contrary to popular belief he _is_ capable of putting together decent meals; he'd just rather eat them than prepare them.

Akabane pauses by the entrance to the kitchen after hanging up his coat and hat, standing silently to watch his lover fix supper, which consists of pasta and breadsticks. Midou-kun apparently has a taste for Italian tonight.

I didn't kill anyone today, he offers, somewhat impulsively. He's not sure why it's important that he volunteer this information rather than be asked for it. He just knows that something inside him is prompting him to, and he is not one for ignoring his instincts.

Midou-kun sets down the colander he's holding and looks at him, those fathomless blue eyes revealing a rare placidity. I know, he says simply.

He comes over and kisses Akabane's lips, and smiles. Go get the cheese grater for me, wouldja Jackal? he says cheerfully. This stuff's hot and ready to go.

Akabane does as he asks, resisting the sudden bewildering urge to wrap his arms around his lover and hold him close for a moment. This sensation is utterly new to him...he's never experienced anything like it before, and it confuses him. Frightens him, even. But it's inexplicably attractive to him as well, in a thousand different ways, and that overriding fascination is what compels him to choose this path.

He still isn't sure what it is that he feels for Midou-kun.

He just knows he doesn't want him to fall by anyone's doing. Not even his own.

He told Midou-kun the truth. On this day, he has not killed. He looks at his lover, studying him as the other man hums a piece of violin music under his breath while he's pouring the wine they will share.

_For you, I would have,_ Akabane thinks to himself.

Dinner is hot and very, very good.


	15. Worth A Thousand Words Part 1

Title: Worth A Thousand Words

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #24 - "good night"

Rating: PG-13 (language, implied adult content)

Warnings/Spoilers: AU that uses elements from the Kiryuudo arc and Akabane's fight with Kanade Semimaru. Also brief mentions of the IL arc.

Notes: Thanks to theconcept for beta help. :) I'd also like to thank all of you out there who take the time to read and/or write and let me know how much you are enjoying these fics - they're fun to do, and please rest assured that I read and appreciate all my reviews. Thank you:)

Disclaimer: GB is not mine, I just like to play with 'em.

Summary: All couples have their quarrels, it's how they're handled that counts. Ginji plays therapist for Ban and Akabane when they have a spat over differences of opinion.

--

"You like meddling, don't you?"

Ginji gives a bemused Paul an innocent look. "Huh?"

The elder man chuckles and nods toward the young woman industriously sweeping the floor by the front entrance. "I saw that whole scene between you and Natsumi-chan."

Ginji blushes a bit. "I was just helping her how to deal with a problem she was having with one of her teachers."

"Well, whatever you said to her, it worked. She was bluer than that sky out there when she came in yesterday. Today, she spends five minutes talking with you and she's back to her normal self." Paul smiles and shakes his head fondly. Despite his sometimes gruff demeanor he looks after each and every one of what he secretly considers as 'his kids,' even if he occasionally has to mete out a little disciplinary measure by way of banning one or two of said 'children' for overdue tab payments.

"You ought to be careful, though. Meddling can bring you more trouble than what you start out with," the shopmaster advises.

Ginji shrugs modestly. "I just wanted to help." Natsumi-chan is one of his favorite people and seeing her unhappy makes him feel strangely down as well. He thinks and then his face brightens. "Hey, maybe I should take up a second job as one of those advice hosts on TV, you know? I could help people _and_ get paid!"

Paul laughs quietly. "Couldn't hurt to bring in the extra money," he agrees. "But I doubt even you could cheer up some people," he says, his tone fading to neutral observance as he looks at the back of the Honky Tonk.

Ginji follows his gaze and is surprised to see Akabane-san, of all people, sitting at one of the corner booths. He must not have noticed him when he came in, which is unusual because Ginji prides himself on his Jackal-radar.

Paul bends over his newspaper on the counter, as if he's going to discuss an item with Ginji. In a low voice he says, "He came in earlier. I know he's always quiet like that, but he seems sort of…depressed."

Ginji takes a closer look at Akabane-san and realizes the master's right. Akabane-san is hunched over a cup of coffee which he's holding in both hands, staring at it as though hoping that it might contain all the answers to the mysterious questions he's looking through. Even his hat appears depressed; it's almost like an extension of him: it's drooping low on his head, the wide brim dipping well over his face to help him hide from the world.

Lending credence to the suggestion that he's feeling unusually glum, Akabane-san sighs. It's the barest rustle of a sound, but it carries over easily to Ginji and Paul who are acutely aware of the room's emotional barometer, each for a different reason.

Paul has to be - when one owns and runs a small business that is routinely trashed by one's regular patrons, it pays to estimate in advance the levels of damage that will inevitably be done. All the better to stick it to those patrons when the tab comes due, naturally.

Ginji has other motivations at work. He's always had an instinctual response to a person in pain. As former leader of the Volts, he was dedicated to protecting the brood that one by one chose to nestle under Raitei's wing, drawn as magnets they were to that indefinable essence that inspires a lifelong loyalty to him in almost everyone who meets Ginji. As a Get Backer, this response is only heightened by the fact that being a retriever offers him plenty of opportunities to soothe someone's suffering - for who hasn't mourned the loss of something important, something precious?

If it's information one wants, Ban-chan is the man. When understanding is the shelter sought, it's the other half of the retrieval team who's best for the job. What does one do when one is in need of such advice? One does what everybody else does - one goes to Ginji, of course. In this case, he'll need to go to Akabane-san, as the transporter doesn't seem inclined to share his troubles with anyone at present.

Immediately he can almost hear Ban-chan in his head, griping that he should really learn to mind his own business sometimes, and just maybe not everybody in the world needs or wants a helping hand. Ginji brushes that little voice aside, knowing that it springs more from his partner's own inner anxiety rather than a useful caution. Granted, this _is_ Akabane-san, the notorious Doctor Jackal, wielder of many sharp and deadly pointy things that are Not Fun for any opposition to tangle with. But Doctor Jackal has reigned in his claws for the time being, leaving behind only Akabane-san, a person with thoughts and worries and emotions just like any other human being.

Putting aside his own worries about becoming an unwilling shish-ke-bob Ginji gets up and cautiously approaches the transporter's booth. "Hi, Akabane-san," he ventures with a half-wave.

The other man doesn't look up from his solitary ruminations. "Hello, Ginji-kun," he says, sounding more tired than his usual polite cheer. Ginji can't see his face with that hat in the way, but he'd bet one of Paul's best sandwiches that a certain perpetual smile is conspicuously absent for once.

"Um…" Ginji tries to think of some excuse for barging in on Akabane-san's solitude. "It's kinda quiet in here today. Is it okay if I sit with you for just a few minutes?"

There is silence, and then Akabane-san answers, his voice soft and lacking its usual charm. "You may if it pleases you, Ginji-kun. But I'm afraid I will not be very stimulating company at the moment. I feel rather indisposed today."

"I'm sorry," Ginji says as he eases into the seat across from him. Sitting gives him a better view of the other man's face, though his full expression is by no means wholly revealed due to the hat. "What's wrong?"

Akabane-san sighs. One gloved thumb strokes along the handle of his mug of now-cooled coffee. "It's nothing to be concerned about, Ginji-kun. I'll be fine."

Ginji is wondering how best to draw him out of his shell when he happens to look down and realizes what the image flickering in the coffee is. It isn't the clearest picture, but it's a lot more than he had moments ago. Ginji studies Akabane-san's reflection, noting the down-turned mouth - the transporter's lips have a natural downward slant to them when they're relaxed from constant smiling; odd how he never noticed that before - the lowered gaze, the melancholy in them that darkens Akabane-san's eyes to a brooding violet. He looks…sad.

Summoning his courage, Ginji says, "I'm always here to listen if you ever want to talk about anything, Akabane-san."

"I appreciate the gesture, Ginji-kun."

Nothing more is forthcoming and they sit in awkward silence for several long minutes. Just when the remaining slivers of Ginji's courage are on the verge of committing mutiny Akabane-san suddenly speaks again.

"Perhaps…it would be easier to show you instead." The transporter slowly rises in a ripple of ebony coat, which he pulls around his thin body as he tucks one hand into a pocket. "Would you care to come with me back to our apartment, Ginji-kun?"

The courage shrieks and makes to dive under the nearest mental bed for safety - an invitation like this can only mean bad, bad things - but Ginji's empathy grabs it in a chokehold before it can scatter completely. Akabane-san is responding, however minutely or bizarrely, to his attempts to engage him in conversation, and so Ginji must follow the puzzle through to its every piece if he wants to see the big picture. "Um - okay."

Akabane-san pauses to pay for his drink, murmuring thanks to Paul as he deposits the change on the counter. Then he and Ginji drift along the sidewalk as they make the short trip back to the apartment building.

Inside the apartment it's quiet; Ban-chan is out scouting for fresh assignments. Akabane-san removes his hat and coat and hangs them on a wall-peg; he offers Ginji refreshments which are eagerly accepted in an effort to distract the cowardly courage. When the snacks and drinks have been dispensed, Akabane-san waits patiently until Ginji has stopped gobbling them down before he comes to the point of the matter.

"Midou-kun and I had an argument this morning."

Ginji watches him. "About what?"

Akabane-san doesn't answer at first. He looks up at Ginji with an unreadable expression as he gets up from the couch and goes to stand before him with his back turned. Ginji is puzzled at first until he sees the movements of Akabane-san's arms and realizes he's in the process of removing the clothes on his upper body.

The thought makes courage scream at Ginji to run for the door. But before his brain can relay that message to his feet Akabane-san is lowering his unbuttoned shirt around his waist. Pale skin, smooth and perfect - that is, except for the slice of scar curving over his left shoulder - reveals a new addition to the gallery:

"This," Akabane-san says softly.

Ginji can't help but stare at it. It's long and deep and uglier than the one on his chest, but that's probably because it's still fresh, the skin immediately surrounding it an angry red. It cuts a vivid swath across Akabane-san's back, tracing its end line almost all the way past the waistband of his trousers.

"I still can't believe you survived that," Ginji mumbles, remembering how they had all thought the transporter to be lost when the piper-magician - what was his name, Senameru, Semimaru? - had dealt the lethal blow…only to be soundly shocked when moments afterward Akabane-san had calmly risen up from the ground and smiled as if nothing had happened.

"Midou-kun was very angry when he learned of it. Angrier still when I informed him that I intended to keep this souvenir," Akabane-san quietly explains as he draws his shirt back up over his shoulders and refastens the buttons. He redoes his tie as well, and after tucking the tail ends of his shirt back into his trousers slips on his vest, completing the picture of professional neatness.

When he is finished dressing he turns around again and sits down on the couch, regarding Ginji with a neutral wariness. "You have no doubt wondered how I am able to take such vicious attacks when any other person would have died. It's a simple answer at once, and yet, not so simple. But suffice it to say that spilling my blood is easy; controlling its essence, impossible. Only I alone have the ability to do that."

Ginji tries to process what Akabane-san is telling him. "Why would you want to have another scar?" he finally asks, aware that it's a rude question at best but genuinely puzzled as to why the transporter seems to take such great pride in the proof of his battle acumen.

Fortunately Akabane-san doesn't seem offended by Ginji's bluntness. He tilts his head to one side, looking at him with a somewhat curious expression. "Semimaru is - was - a great warrior, Ginji-kun. Is it not an honor to be marked by his blade?"

"You can appreciate great skill without having to cut yourself up for it," Ginji says, unable to hide the twinge of revulsion in his voice even as he worries that Akabane-san will take offense to it. The scars themselves don't disgust him, but the pleasure that Akabane-san seems to find in wearing and displaying them does. It makes Ginji sick with a kind of grief that someone could find it enjoyable to suffer so.

"True," Akabane-san agrees. "But this is how I know that I am alive." He touches a hand to his chest, tracing a line over it where the biggest scar runs vertical along his torso. "Each of these has a history behind it, did you know, Ginji-kun? Past battles…a pictorial to remind myself of special times, the opponents I met, the things I have learned." He leans forward suddenly and gently lays his palm on Ginji's knee, a gesture that ordinarily should not feel so intimate, but coming from Akabane-san is infused with a wealth of meaning. "I should like very much to carry your mark as well, Ginji-kun. I would consider it a great honor," the other man says with all seriousness, his voice soft as a cat's footfalls.

Ginji doesn't know whether to whimper in horror or gag in disgust.

His dilemma must have manifested itself on his face in some way, shown vividly in his eyes, or the curling of his lips, because Akabane-san sighs and gives him a sorrowful look as he withdraws his hand. "Midou-kun said the same thing."

_That_ floors Ginji. "You asked Ban-chan to - to _hurt _you? On _purpose?_" he nearly yelps out loud.

Akabane-san remains unruffled by his thoroughly freaked stare. "You of all people ought to know what a magnificent fighter he is, Ginji-kun. He said he won against Raitei. I asked him once." Violet eyes take on a dreamlike cast and his voice caresses Ginji like velvet. "Midou-kun is my lover now. Is it not right that lovers bear each other's brands as a sign of their union? He carries mine - " Akabane-san taps a finger between shoulder and chest, on his right side - "but he has yet to gift me with the full kiss of his fangs." The dark-haired man looks mournful at the fact that he hasn't received such a dubious distinction.

Ginji squelches the urge to vomit and instead asks, "When did you leave a scar on Ban-chan?"

"Don't you remember? During the IL mission." Akabane-san smiles dreamily again. "When you and I were fighting, he surprised us with his sudden appearance. Such a wonderful meeting, truly it was." His eyes close briefly in fond remembrance. "For a split-second my blood was mixed with his…it was the most incredible feeling, I swear I could taste his intensity, his heat and life - "

"Back to the new scar," Ginji quickly says, both to interrupt the flow of rhapsodic bloody nostalgia and to learn the whole truth about said lovers' spat. "How does that work, exactly? You said you control your blood, so what, you just…keep the wound from healing properly by not letting it clot over like it normally would?" He struggles to remember what basic medical knowledge he has.

Akabane-san nods as he opens his eyes. "A crude explanation of it, but close enough. A scar such as this is one that ought to be cherished, don't you think? It was a gift from an old friend, after all."

Reminded once again of the strange encounter with the piper-magician who seemed to know so much about Akabane-san, Ginji says, "Who is Semimaru, Akabane-san? I know he's supposed to be one of the seven elders, but you two acted like you knew each other awfully well…"

Akabane-san blinks, holding in a frozen stillness for a heartbeat as a peculiar blankness descends over his gaze. Then it's gone in the next blink, as time starts up again as if nothing had interrupted it. He draws his shuttered expression into a fragile benignity of a smile. "It's a very long story, Ginji-kun, and one I do not believe you would be much interested in hearing, I'm afraid."

Which could easily translate as "I don't feel like talking about it, so back off before I turn you into a dartboard," but upon catching the faint, faint note of heartbroken loss in Akabane-san's voice Ginji reconsiders his initial inference. Something tells him that this story involves a terrible amount of blood, much more than he's ever seen the transporter's scalpels create, possibly even a greater amount than Akabane-san _himself_ has ever watched those weapons produce. Changing the subject again, he steers back to Ban-chan. "Ban-chan didn't win against Raitei, Akabane-san." A big risk in admitting this, Ginji knows, and normally he wouldn't bother to correct this misassumption since it's one that everybody seems to make, but this time it's oddly important.

Akabane-san looks confused now. "But he told me he did, when we met each other aboard Miss Hera's ship. He has no cause to lie to me. Why should I not believe him when he says such things to me?"

Ginji shakes his head. "I'm sure he had his reasons for saying what he did, but trust me, Akabane-san, _nobody_ won that fight. Actually…" Ginji pauses, considering. "We _both _won it, you could say."

This only serves to baffle Akabane-san even more, he can tell by the way those slender brows knit together and the purple eyes darken in consternation.

Deciding that it's a wise idea to leave off discussing battles and their defeats/victories thereof Ginji does some more thinking. He fixes Akabane-san with a frown. "Akabane-san, can I ask you something?"

The smile flickers into place as it smoothes itself into a more relaxed position. "Certainly, Ginji-kun."

"Do you love Ban-chan?"

Crap. The smile just disappeared. Courage's shrill whine echoes an _I told you so! _while empathy is wondering if perhaps this hasn't been a mistake from the get-go. Ginji tenses until he realizes that Akabane-san's gaze has cooled not to anger but to an even more disturbed bewilderment than before.

The transporter speaks in a near-whisper. "What is this thing called 'love,' Ginji-kun?"

The poignancy of the question, the stunning and _serious _honesty in its perplexed tones, makes Ginji stare. He doesn't know how to respond at first, so he lets the hushed atmosphere cloak them both in its silence while he digests the information at hand so far.

Being cared for - and caring for others in turn - is something that has always come naturally to Ginji, whether or not he's consciously aware of it. Raitei arose in part from this need, which is a function of himself as simple as breathing - it just _is._ Were it not for the necessity of power in order to protect those he calls his loved ones from the horrors of the Beltline Ginji probably wouldn't have summoned the other in the first place. In any case, he can't fathom why more people don't tend this need in themselves, because it's such a natural part of being and it's definitely more fun than always hating everybody or trying to hurt them.

But some people, Ginji also knows, are for whatever reason unable - or worse, unwilling - to acknowledge this core, much less access it on their own, and Akabane-san is one of them. There have been hints - Ginji himself is no stranger to the scars of a violent past, he recognizes the familiar look even if it is disguised by a cold exterior of hardness. The ice serves as protection against further pain. Except what one fails to realize is that ice, when frozen in a solid block around the heart, does a vicious damage of its own, and this wintering is sometimes far deadlier than the fresh rending of living pain.

It's Ginji's turn to edge forward now, studying the man he has called usually foe, rarely ally, but mostly fear, as he takes his time, choosing his words carefully. Akabane-san is possessed of a preternatural calm, as well as fearsome abilities that allow him to glide through his path like the specter he is so often purported to be. But he is only human too, with the innate need to be accepted, to feel that he belongs somewhere in this world, with someone who can understand him and who will take him as he is, scars, scalpels and all.

Steeling himself for what he knows he must do, Ginji leans closer to Akabane-san and takes up those gloved hands, their wounds concealed by the pristine blanket of fabric. "Akabane-san…you enjoy being with Ban-chan, don't you?"

To his relief the other man proves malleable, as a small smile flickers to the surface. "Indeed I do."

"You like to spend time with him, doing…normal stuff. Right?"

"Yes."

"And Ban-chan is an interesting person to you? He makes you laugh, makes you think, keeps you going when you feel like slacking off?"

"Oh, yes."

Ginji's face flushes in spite of himself as he says, "You and Ban-chan are pretty, uh, compatible, in a lot of areas, huh?"

This time Akabane-san's smile deepens knowingly, his sly gaze not missing any of Ginji's embarrassment at bringing up a delicate topic. "Very much so," he purrs. "Midou-kun is wonderful at bringing me pleasure in many ways."

"But you also have a lot of fun with him outside of the - the bedroom, right?"

"Of course."

"You'd be really - upset, if somebody else tried to ruin your fun together, wouldn't you, Akabane-san?"

Purple eyes take on an unnerving glimmer. "I would be most disappointed," Akabane-san agrees.

Getting into a roll with this, Ginji continues. "So you wouldn't like it if somehow Ban-chan got taken away from you, because that would spoil your enjoyment, and enjoyment is really important to you, isn't it, Akabane-san?"

The transporter nods in earnest, gazing at him with an eager seriousness. "Absolutely, Ginji-kun."

"Because when Ban-chan's not around, you feel differently, don't you? Things aren't as much fun anymore. They're boring and they remind you of stuff you don't want to think about. But Ban-chan understands what that's like, because he's been through feelings like that himself and he knows how to make it go away. He knows how to make life fun again."

"He does," Akabane-san admits.

"So, as a professional, you want to do your very best to make sure that nothing ever happens to make Ban-chan leave you, because there are some things in life that can't ever be gotten back once certain lines have been crossed." Ginji licks his dry lips, warming to his role. "Right?"

A frisson of mild surprise steals briefly across Akabane-san's face. "I suppose…I do," he says.

Ginji nods. Courage has been impressed enough by empathy's show that it manages to assert itself admirably, and he lightly clasps Akabane-san's hands in his own. "I think…I think that you're just as important to Ban-chan as he is to you, Akabane-san, and that's why he was so mad at you when you told him you wanted a scar from him. Ban-chan doesn't like getting too close to people even if he's having fun with them. I've been around him long enough to know that he doesn't take a serious interest in just anybody. The ones he does want to be with…he's like me, he doesn't want to see them get hurt. Ever. No matter how large or small or what kind of an injury it is. Because that makes _him_ hurt, and when Ban-chan is hurting he pretends he isn't and acts all nasty or tries to ignore everybody, and he's not interested in playing then."

Akabane-san frowns slightly, lowering his eyes to their joined hands. "He has not told me he lo - that he…cares about me. Does this mean that I…am not…interesting to him in return?" He's smiling as he says this but it's a hollow shell - the bleakness in his lovely eyes reveals the truth of his deepest fears.

Ginji hastens to reassure him. "No, no, Akabane-san! Completely the opposite. Ban-chan won't waste important words on people he doesn't like. He just believes in showing someone what he feels for them instead of saying things, that's all."

"Oh."

"If he's been with you this long it's probably safe to say that he'll still want to be with you once he gets over his anger. But…Akabane-san…have _you_ told him anything about the way he makes you feel? Besides showing appreciation for all the, um, pleasure he gives you."

Akabane-san looks startled. "Why, no…"

Ginji gives him a stern glance. "It works both ways, Akabane-san. For this type of game to be worth its effort you have to give a little yourself if you want for it to be fun for both of you."

Violet eyes widen with surprise at this enlightenment. "Ahhh," the transporter says, a breathy drawn-out exhalation.

"Ban-chan will give you more excitement if you let him in on some of your secrets. He'll probably even share a few of his own with you," Ginji says. "But first he needs to feel that he can trust you not to be so…boring…in your responses. You asking him to hurt you was an insult, and he's gotten too many of those to be impressed by them."

"I see." Akabane-san looks intently up at Ginji. "What must I do to repair the situation, then?"

"Just tell him you're sorry, that's all." Ginji offers a hopeful smile. "Tell him why you wanted him to give you a scar and that you understand why he got mad and that you're okay with that. He should cool down then."

"All right." Akabane-san looks toward the door. "Where would you suggest I start looking for him?"

Ginji glances at the clock on the wall. "He's probably back at the Honky Tonk drowning himself in Paul's coffee by now - assuming Paul gave him any. We're kinda behind on our tab again," Ginji admits sheepishly. He looks down, realizes he's still holding hands with Akabane-san. Oops. Trying not to be obvious about it, he pretends there's an itch dancing up his back that he has to get rid of, and twists away to scratch vigorously at it.

The tiny quirk at the corner of Akabane-san's mouth tells Ginji that the transporter is well aware of his playacting and the reason for it, but his polite manners won't allow him to comment on it. Ginji pretends he didn't see the smile. Sometimes it's best not to acknowledge certain things.

"Thank you for your kind advice, Ginji-kun. Well, then. Shall we go?" Akabane-san stands up and after fetching his coat and hat, offers a hand to Ginji, who - after several seconds of courage's shaky indecision again - takes it and follows him out of the apartment.

Ginji puts on a brave face, not just for his own benefit but for Akabane-san's as well. In spite of what he told the other man, intuition tells him it's not going to be so easy to get back the Get Backer. Particularly when that Get Backer happens to be Ban-chan.

--

The Honky Tonk isn't busy, but that's nothing new. Yet in spite of the lull Paul always seems to do a brisk business, enough to keep the occasional interlopers in much-needed coffee and sandwiches, at least.

Ginji scans the booths and immediately spots Ban-chan in one of the far corners, nursing a cigarette but no drink. Paul must have served up one of his 'tough-love' lectures. A coffee-less Ban-chan will be a little harder to approach, but it's not a hopeless situation, and Ginji is intent on proving his mettle.

He squeezes Akabane-san's shoulder and motions for him to go first. Akabane-san appears surprisingly unsettled, but quickly schools his face into an impassive calm. His eyes, however, tell a different story.

"You can do it," Ginji whispers to him before taking an unobtrusive seat off to the side in order to observe them.

The transporter nods imperceptibly. He stiffens his back and saunters over to Ban-chan's booth with practiced ease, cool greeting at the ready. "Hello, Midou-kun."

Ban-chan doesn't say anything, just glowers at his smoldering cigarette.

Akabane-san refuses to be deterred. "I trust that this booth is occupied by no one else besides you? I wish to have a discussion," he says crisply, voice hinting at none of the tension he's feeling.

"We had our discussion. This morning, in case you forgot." Ban-chan's tone is sharp and flat, unwilling to concede anything.

Akabane-san purses his lips. He sits down opposite Ban-chan and primly folds his hands in his lap. He takes a little breath and begins. "We were both upset, Midou-kun. Perhaps we - we did not do as well as either of us had hoped in - in articulating our respective…grievances," he murmurs haltingly as he searches for the right words.

Ban-chan snorts and takes another drag on his cigarette, purposely blowing the smoke in Akabane-san's direction. Purple eyes narrow slightly but to his credit the pale man doesn't flinch in the face of the irritant. "That your half-assed way of apologizing to me? Fine. Apology accepted. Now fuck off."

Akabane-san glares. "I think we need to talk about some things, Midou-kun."

"There's nothing to talk about, Jackal. We made ourselves quite clear. Or rather, _you_ did," Ban-chan sneers.

Akabane-san closes his eyes and takes a deep breath to dissolve his own irritation. He opens his eyes again and looks at his lover, speaking to him in carefully measured tones. "There is a reason for my unusual request, Midou-kun. If you would let me explain - "

"I'm not stupid, Jackal. I know why you wanted me to carve you up like a side of raw beef. For fuck's sake, if the bloodlust was getting to you so bad all you had to do was come ask me for another fight." Ban-chan stabs his dwindling cigarette butt into the ashtray. "Or did you just take it out on one of the slobs you deal with at work?"

Akabane-san's brows draw tightly into compressed anger at the low blow. "That isn't the reason and you know it," he says coldly.

"Could've fooled me." Ban-chan deliberately looks away from him, directing his focus towards extracting and lighting up a fresh cigarette. "I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. It stands to reason a guy like you could only control himself for so long before something snaps."

Violet seethes in Akabane-san's face. A slight flush creeps up the side of his neck and into his cheeks. "What is _that _supposed to mean?"

Ban-chan stares him down, laserlike blue as coldly intense as a viper's strike. "Leopards don't change their spots. Neither do jackals."

Akabane-san turns his head to one side then, but not before Ginji catches the flash of hurt in his pretty eyes. For someone who is reputed to be so inhuman Jackal is a surprising wealth of emotion, however muted its glimpse. He looks back at Ban-chan after a moment of winding his self-composure around him like a coat of armor. "By that same reasoning, neither do snakes," he says, his voice soft but cutting as sharply as any of his scalpels.

"I've always known what I am and I've never pretended to be anything but. You, on the other hand, try to dress up your twisted perversion in nice clothes and good manners like a child playing some kind of sick masquerade." Ban-chan's voice rises to a hard rain, each word cruelly biting. "Maybe I was the idiot after all, for thinking I could have had anything with you. I blame that softhearted dumbass Ginji for that."

Akabane-san's voice rises as well, his voice pitched to a quietly vibrant fury. "Don't you dare bring Ginji-kun into this, Midou-kun. He's been a true friend to both of us."

"What, the two of you are suddenly best buddies now?" Ban-chan growls at him. "Give me a break. Ginji wouldn't set foot within a hundred feet of you if he was paid in filet mignon for a year." His eyes narrow poisonously. "Was that your plan, Jackal? Shed the snake like an old skin and finally make a move on the other one of us, is that it? What a _sick,_ fucked-up psychotic - "

"You know that isn't true!" Akabane-san's voice wavers a little and he struggles to keep it level. "I don't deny that I enjoy his company, but I have never been unfaithful to our agreement and we both know it."

"Only because you haven't had the opportunity to get Ginji alone - "

"Wrong. I've had plenty of chances. But you aren't the only one who thinks that keeping promises is a mark of professionalism." Akabane-san's jaw lifts in his own stubborn pride.

"Temptation hasn't concerned you so much before," Ban-chan shoots back, his cigarette forgotten as it lies burning itself away in the ashtray. "Shit, that's the only reason you ever agreed to find the IL with the rest of the bunch. You wanted a fight and I'll bet that really twisted your knickers in a knot when I came along and spoiled it. Well, you go on, Jackal, and you keep pushing till you get Raitei to come out. But when he does, I guarantee you I won't be wasting any sleep over your corpse. 'Cause make no mistake, that's exactly what it'll come to. You think Ginji hates your guts now? Wait till you face Raitei, whose purpose it is to _protect_ Ginji from pain the likes of your kind."

"There's no need to yell at me, Midou-kun! And I don't want to be with Raitei. Or with Ginji-kun," Akabane-san says, a strangled note of something causing his throat to go taut. A mist wells up in those purple eyes and the transporter's lips quiver, his chest rising and falling with the breaths he struggles to keep even in the face of such overwhelming emotion. "I think…I think I - I - "

"Don't you _dare_ say it, you bloodthirsty maniacal son of a bitch!" Ban-chan snarls, slamming a fist on the table. "Don't you dare say it unless you mean it!"

Akabane-san's eyes plead with him. "I want to be with _you._"

Ban-chan's jaw grinds silently. He leaps up from his seat and viciously seizes an alabaster throat with his right hand, the fingers clenched around the skin hard enough to leave bruises.

"Just one squeeze is all it takes," he hisses at Akabane-san.

The other man looks at him with brittle emptiness, unafraid of the ruthless potential holding him hostage. They both glance sideways at the front counter, where Paul is facing away from them talking on his cell phone.

"Or one scream," Akabane-san whispers to Ban-chan.

A muscle jumps in Ban-chan's face. Moments later he releases his grip on Akabane-san and gets up, stalking from the booth without a backwards glance.

Ginji watches, outrage fast rising in his chest. It's a rarity for him to get this upset, and when he does it's almost always a prelude to Raitei's arrival. But he's learned how to scale back the energy whenever he feels lightning threaten nearby. This is not a situation for Raitei's disposal; what's needed here is simply Ginji Amano.

He can count on one hand the number of times he's been truly angry with Ban-chan. But Akabane-san has been trying so hard to be just Akabane-san and not Doctor Jackal, and maybe he hasn't gotten enough credit for that. Okay, so Akabane-san isn't the easiest person in the world to deal with, and he's certainly one of the freakiest, but kicking him when he's already down is just mean. If there's one thing in the world that Ginji absolutely _despises,_ it's meanness. He saw enough of that in Mugenjou to last several lifetimes.

Without stopping to question the wisdom of his actions Ginji jumps up and chases after Ban-chan. He catches up to him outside on the sidewalk, dragging him to a stop before he can get very far.

"Ginji! You jackass! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I saw you guys, Ban-chan! You didn't even give Akabane-san a chance to explain!"

"What the - you fucking little spy! Since when the hell do you even give a damn about that crazy bastard?"

"Since he was nice to me and gave me cookies and milk and didn't try to stab me," Ginji snaps at him. "Akabane-san may be a scary person, but he's still a _person,_ Ban-chan. And you really hurt him by yelling at him like that."

"Who are you kidding, Ginji? Jackal doesn't have emotions. That'd be too human for him."

"Too human for you too, I bet," Ginji says darkly, and he doesn't even try to dodge the punch that buries itself in his gut a second after the words exit his mouth.

Paul comes out then, cracking a dishtowel in his hands. He steps over a wheezing doubled-up Ginji and speaks to Ban-chan. "At least Akabane's trying to make an effort. You aren't," he says with his characteristic bluntness. He taps Ban-chan roughly in the forehead. "Do a little growing up and maybe you'll realize what an important thing you've got going."

He turns and walks back inside the shop, whistling to himself as if nothing had just taken place.

Ban-chan stares at the swinging door for a long while. Then he looks down at Ginji, who's still hunched over like an old man as he recovers from the blow Ban-chan gave him. Finally, without saying anything, he abruptly turns and storms off down the sidewalk towards his car, posture bristling and hands jammed firmly in his pants pockets. He gets in, slams the door and the Ladybug screeches away from the pavement in a stench of burnt rubber and asphalt.

Ginji gets up, the last of his tubercular gasps subsiding, and heads back inside the Honky Tonk.

Akabane-san is still sitting in the booth, head tilted down, gloved hands folded in his lap. Courage says he shouldn't do what he's thinking about doing. Empathy tells it to have a big steaming cup of shut the hell up. Ginji carefully eases into the seat next to Akabane-san.

"I'm sorry. That didn't go very well, did it?" he says meekly.

"It's all right, Ginji-kun. It wasn't your fault." Akabane-san's voice is a bare shadow of itself. "I apologize for the unpleasant things you must have overheard."

"Don't worry about it."

The other man sighs. "Perhaps Midou-kun was right…maybe this was too good to be true…" he muses to himself.

Ginji frowns as he studies him. From time to time his electromagnetic powers serve as a type of compass (don't laugh, Ban-chan) that allows him to gauge other people's emotional thermostats, the things they're feeling when they're experiencing particularly strong sensations. He can't explain it, much less consciously tune it in or out at will, but he can differentiate between anger and sorrow, and Akabane-san is definitely mired in the latter. However, it's a different sort of sadness from the feeling he last sensed from the pale man when they faced Semimaru the piper-magician.

That had been an old wound, one that festered into a repulsive scab. This is more like the hot slice of a knife cutting deeply through one's skin (don't laugh, Akabane-san).

Ginji can also sense when someone's trying to hold back their feelings, and he knows that the transporter is lying to himself with those words, trying to fool himself into believing the accusations that his lover hurled at him earlier. And maybe Ban-chan has a point; after all, habits like Doctor Jackal's don't evaporate overnight. But still, as cool and controlled and aloof as Akabane-san is…maybe he's not as unreachable as was previously thought, and though near-invincible in a fight, he is no more immune than anyone else to the pain of heartbreak.

"It's okay if you want to," Ginji says encouragingly.

Akabane-san looks away and tugs the brim of his hat down lower over his face to hide the brightness that's shining suspiciously in his eyes. "It's not necessary…it's silly, this weakness…" he murmurs softly.

"There's nothing wrong with showing emotions when you're feeling them," Ginji points out. "I cry all the time, and I'm not weak."

A slightly surprised Akabane-san glances up at him. "Hm. This is true," he agrees, and gives Ginji a tiny wavering smile.

Ginji can't help but feel sorry for him. Akabane-san doesn't seem to be used to any other sort of socializing besides coolly polite interaction, when necessary. A man who once openly admitted without any apparent concern that he had no friends almost certainly has, as they say, issues. It's clear from watching the way Akabane-san's blinking rapidly now, the little trembles of his lower lip, that he's hurting from his and Ban-chan's argument, even if he refuses to admit it. Impulsively Ginji reaches over and takes a white gloved hand in his, giving it a light squeeze.

This gentle contact is the straw that breaks the dam. Akabane-san looks at him again and the smile crumbles. His eyes pinch shut and he sags into Ginji, silently pressing his face against his shoulder. A second later Ginji feels hot dampness soaking a section of his shirt.

Akabane-san's shoulders shake a little and he makes a small, choked-off noise. Ginji rubs his back, holding him as protectively, albeit awkwardly, as he would any of his friends who need his comfort. He doesn't speak - for one thing, he's not sure what he would say to a tearful scalpel-wielding transporter. But he senses that more words aren't necessarily what Akabane-san needs right now. Just someone to share his pain, assuage it even if only temporarily. A friendly shoulder...a friend.

At length Akabane-san pulls away, sniffling and dabbing at his reddened eyes with gloved fingertips. He withdraws a white silk handkerchief from the inside breast pocket of his coat and daintily wipes away the moisture staining his face. "My apologies once more, Ginji-kun," he whispers. "It seems you will have laundry to do now." He nods at Ginji's wet shirt.

"It's only a shirt. It can be cleaned."

"Such a disgrace." Akabane-san sniffles again and lightly blows his nose in the handkerchief. He folds it into a neat square and tucks it back inside his coat pocket. His eyes close and he takes several deep breaths, calming himself, drawing on his reserves of self-control as he composes his features into an elegantly cold mask of indifference.

It's a weirdly fascinating process for Ginji to watch. He's never seen Akabane-san look so…human…before, and the transformation from human to soulless automaton when those purple eyes reopen into a flat gaze is chilling. Why is Akabane-san so determined to deny this part of himself? Ginji's tempted to ask but has a bad feeling that doing so would unleash a storm the likes of which he's not even sure Raitei could deal with. Anyway, it's not for him to unearth the answers to these questions. That is something only Ban-chan seems capable of taking on - all Ginji can do is guide them back to each other and hope they don't kill themselves in the process of figuring it all out.

"It's not a disgrace. It's normal to feel like this when you have a fight with somebody you enjoy being with, Akabane-san," he says.

Akabane-san's eyes narrow. "I don't like this feeling. I find it…inconvenient."

"Well, yeah, maybe a little, it can be," Ginji says. "But you know how it is when you're waiting for the fun part of a job - " he avoids dwelling on what Akabane-san considers 'fun' - "and sometimes you have to sit through really long detail work, or hit up against problems in the process? But afterwards, the good stuff makes it all worthwhile. But you can't have that without going through the annoying stuff first, because that makes the fun possible in the first place."

Akabane-san blinks. "My. I hadn't thought of it in that light before…"

He's given Jackal some new food for thought, Ginji can tell by the way those purple eyes shift to intrigue. "Akabane-san, do you trust me?"

The transporter surprises them both with the swiftness of his answer. "Yes," comes the quiet reply.

"And you know that I trust Ban-chan, right?"

"Yes."

Ginji pats the imposing black-clad shoulders. "Then trust me now when I say you should trust in Ban-chan too," he says softly. "If he says he'll be there for someone, he will. He's never let me down," he adds encouragingly. "He's just had a hard life, that's all. It's tough for him to handle relationships sometimes."

Akabane-san raises an eyebrow. "He's told you about his life?"

"Not all of it," Ginji admits. "He's mentioned a few things here and there. Sometimes he doesn't even need to say anything at all. I can just feel it. As to the rest…he'll tell me if he's ready to, and even if he isn't I don't have to know, because what I _do_ know is that Ban-chan's a good person at heart. And that's really all that matters to me."

It's an unusual concept, unconditional trust, for Akabane-san to digest. Ginji can tell by the flickering in those violet depths that part of him wants to believe in Ginji's words, wants to take that risk, but the other half of him is still the wary jackal, the one who wards off humanity by using the darkness as a shield against more darkness.

"Ban-chan cares about you, Akabane-san. Honest, he does. He just doesn't know how to show it sometimes," Ginji says.

Akabane-san's eyes are downcast. "What am I to do, then? Midou-kun was quite displeased when he left. I do not think he will return now until very late. If at all…" He bites his lip, fretful that this might be a possibility.

Ginji thinks. "It can't hurt to try again to talk things out with him. But we'll give him some more time to settle down first. He'll have to come back sooner or later, if the car's low on gas. Ban-chan would never abandon the Bug."

Akabane-san looks highly doubtful, but he nods. "If you say so, Ginji-kun. Though I don't believe that he will want to speak with me at present - before he left this morning he told me I could 'just fuck off to whatever goddamned rock I crawled out from underneath.'" The transporter looks for a second like he might actually blush as he demurely regards Ginji from beneath lowered eyelashes. "I apologize for the profanity, but that _is _what he said."

Ginji shakes his head. "That's just Ban-chan being grouchy. When he's grouchy he always says stuff like that. He doesn't really mean anything by it. Kinda like how he's always yelling that I'm an electric eel." He smiles reassuringly.

Akabane-san looks confused. "But Ginji-kun…you _are _electric…"

"Yeah, but when Ban-chan says it he means I'm doing something stupid that's making him mad."

Akabane-san manages a quiet chuckle, and Ginji laughs softly along with him. They smile at each other without malice, without distrust, and this purity momentarily flash-freezes itself into a corner of Ginji's memory, a precious living photograph that can be stored and admired repeatedly with no fear of corrosion.

"Ginji-kun," the other man finally says, "why are you helping me?"

Caught off-guard by the frank question, Ginji shrugs. "Why not?"

Akabane-san smiles again, almost sadly this time. "I don't understand." Meaning, he's clueless as to why someone with such a notoriously open heart would want to help a man who's sincerely tried to kill both Ginji and his best friend - the same man that the jackal calls lover now - in the past.

Echoing his thoughts, Ginji says, "Whatever happened between us…it's in the past, Akabane-san. Holding grudges doesn't help anybody. Ban-chan and I filled an emptiness each of us had that we didn't know about till we met…maybe now it's your turn to do the same for each other."

Akabane-san makes a little thoughtful noise, slender brows creasing. Obviously he finds this suggestion of great interest. "I am not sure what you mean by emptiness, Ginji-kun." His eyes brighten suddenly. "Perhaps you are referring to Midou-kun's enormous appetite? He does seem to enjoy my cooking quite a bit…" He falls back into thoughtful silence for a few moments, and then says, "I suppose it will be interesting to find out. Won't it?" There's a twinge of something in his tone, a lilting quality that Ginji intuitively understands because it sounds so reminiscent of similar things Raitei said to Ban-chan a long time ago.

"That's the spirit, Akabane-san. Hey! Does this mean you want to hire me to help you get back Ban-chan?" He meant it as a half-joke, but now Ginji's excited, the prospect of negotiating and carrying out a successful retrieval, for Akabane-san, no less, sending him into seat-squirming fits. Won't Ban-chan and the others be impressed with his cleverness if he can pull it off all by himself!

A tinkling of laughter fills the room with rich warmth. Akabane-san looks very amused. "I guess I am." He sits up straighter, his expression turning solemn, and tilts his head towards Ginji. "What is your going rate?"

"Umm…" Ginji thinks. What to ask, what to ask…this is a prime opportunity to score big, but he doesn't want to press Akabane-san for too much. That might make the transporter rather unhappy. And as Ginji well knows, an unhappy Akabane-san equals a _dangerous_ Akabane-san.

"Take your time," the other man encourages gently. "You are new to the negotiating business, are you not? You spend your time primarily as a retriever so that's certainly understandable." He leans forward slightly, patting Ginji's knee. It's his turn to offer reassuring advice. "Let me share a tip with you that I learned from Himiko-san. When one is negotiating a price for services, it is better to aim too high than too low. One can always correct the level of expense if need be. It is much harder to raise the bar when it has already been set." He smiles.

Good point - no pun intended. Ginji assesses his chances of getting what he's about to ask for and decides he has a decent shot. "Okay. In exchange for getting back Ban-chan for you, I want for you never to kill anybody ever again."

Akabane-san's laugh is throaty in its amusement. "I said 'high,' Ginji-kun, not astronomically impossible," he chides affectionately.

Ginji frowns. "Well, it was worth a try." He thinks some more. "How about, I get back Ban-chan for you, and you buy me and Natsumi-chan dinner at a restaurant we pick, every weekend for a month."

"Done," Akabane-san agrees smoothly.

They shake hands to seal the contract. "Congratulations, Akabane-san. You've just hired the best in the retrieval business," Ginji announces with a flourish. "I have a one hundred percent success rate!"

"Correction. The _Get Backers _have a one hundred percent success rate," Akabane-san says. "As you are presently one-half of that partnership, your odds have therefore dropped to fifty percent. Not encouraging to most people, but then you have a talent for surprises where it is least expected." His smile reappears, looking more like its usual cheery creepiness. "I am confident you will do your best, Ginji-kun." The smile falters for a second as a purple gaze dims before withdrawing behind a cool facade. "Even if your client has personal reservations as to the outcome of the assignment…"

Ginji waggles a finger in front of him. "Think positive, Akabane-san. Once a Get Backer makes up his mind to get something back, we never stop until we achieve our mission!"

--

TBC in Part 2


	16. Worth A Thousand Words Part 2

Title: Worth A Thousand Words (Part 2)

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #24 - "good night"

Rating: PG-13 (language, implied adult content)

Warnings/Spoilers: AU that uses elements from the Kiryuudo arc and Akabane's fight with Kanade Semimaru. Also brief mentions of the IL arc.

Notes: Thanks to theconcept for beta help. :)

Disclaimer: GB is not mine, I just like to play with 'em.

Summary: All couples have their quarrels, it's how they're handled that counts. Ginji plays therapist for Ban and Akabane when they have a spat over differences of opinion.

--

Entering Mugenjou is not something high on Ginji's list of favorite things to do. But on occasion it's necessary, especially if a job requires a visit to the Infinite Fortress. Still, Ginji's mood takes a definite detour into somber reflection as he winds his way through the maze of ruins and buildings, following Sakura as she leads. Thank goodness for cellular phones - he'd called her beforehand to ask to meet with Makubex, adding that he needed directions to the new lair his friend's built. Makubex has his hands full these days, what with running the new Volts and conducting the few surveillance attempts he can manage on Babylon City.

As if sensing his thoughts, Sakura says, "Makubex might still be in conference with Masaki, Ginji-san. But I'm sure they'll both be pleased to see you."

"Masaki! How is he?" Ginji still feels a residual twang of hurt if he thinks too long about his elder comrade's betrayal, but he understands why Masaki felt the need to do what he did, and he still cares about him just as much as he's cared about all of his friends. Since rediscovering his roots with Ginji and the old gang Masaki's become a wealth of information regarding his former employers, valuable tidbits that Makubex has used in rebuilding Lower Town into a fledgling civilization instead of a chaotic lawless zone.

"He's been well," Sakura replies. "Please understand, though, Ginji-san, if he cannot tell you much by way of his current whereabouts or the things he's been working on. Such secrecy is necessary to protect all of us."

Ginji nods, knowing well of what she speaks. One does not so casually walk away from the Brain Trust without there being serious repercussions.

"I need a favor," he tells Sakura as he explains the basic necessities of his mission. Most of the work has already been accomplished, but there is one crucial piece that remains to be set in place, and it is for this task that he seeks Makubex's help.

Sakura assures him that it's no trouble at all. They reach the double doors proclaiming the entrance to the dwellings of Lower Town's new Emperor, and she ushers him inside before approaching Makubex, who is as she had noted, discussing plans with Masaki via teleconference. Another friend and former Volts member, Emishi, is with them as well, though his duties at the moment seem to involve making bizarre expressions at Makubex in an attempt to get him to laugh and ruin his solemn composure. Emishi sees Ginji and strikes a flamboyant pose.

"It's the one, the only - Get Backer extraordinaire, his talents with lightning so rare - Ginji-san!"

Ginji can't help but grin at the exaggerated introduction. "Nice to see you too, Emishi."

Makubex spots them and his face breaks out into a huge smile. He's always adored Ginji as an elder brother-figure and this joy transmits itself to everyone else present. Onscreen, Masaki sees his arrival and his own face - made weary by cynicism more than age - eases into a softened reflection. Greetings are exchanged all-around as Masaki and Ginji inquire briefly about each other's health. Makubex and Masaki bid each other good tidings until their next contact, and Makubex signs off his system in order to give his full attention - and a bear hug - to Ginji.

"Ginji-san! It's so good to see you again. What can I do for you?"

"Can you track someone's location through their cellular phone?"

"Yeah. All I have to do is tap into the satellite and…" Makubex segues into a complicated exposition of computers and networks that makes Ginji's eyes temporarily glaze over. Having had little to no working experience with many technologies due to his unfortunate habit of accidental electrical discharges, the technical aspects of the process are lost on him. He leaves such nuts and bolts to Ban-chan, whose knowledge is substantial enough to possibly impress even Makubex.

Makubex finishes his summary with nary a loss of breath and looks expectantly at Ginji. "Who do you want to track?"

"Ban-chan." Quickly Ginji explains the story, omitting only the more intimate information Akabane-san has shared with him. "He took off after they argued again, and I don't know where he's gone."

Emishi makes a face. "The snake and his pincushion. What a couple," he mumbles under his breath, aware that his opinion of the pair in question is neither helpful nor welcome.

Makubex digests this with a slow nod. "Okay. Give me his number, then dial him up and try to keep him on the line for as long as you can. The longer he stays connected, the easier it will be to pinpoint his location."

Ginji does so and after relaying this information takes out his phone and punches in Ban-chan's number on the speed-dial, hoping that his friend isn't so far gone in his anger as to ignore the urgent trilling of his own phone. Luck is with him, for Ban-chan answers…after the thirty-fourth ring.

"What d'ya want, Ginji?"

Refusing to be put off by the flatness in Ban-chan's voice Ginji recites his prepared story. "Hevn-san has a job. She wants to meet as soon as possible. She told me to tell you to call her."

"Tell her I said to get fucked."

Ginji feels his face coloring in spite of his determination not to let his friend's temper get to him. His eyes shift towards Makubex, who is busily surfing the digital codes of his tracing program in an attempt to locate Ban-chan. Maps splay across the screen with dizzying speed; each one narrows to a radius of more and more detailed territory. From the looks of things so far Ban-chan must not be far from Mugenjou itself.

Taking a deep breath, Ginji appeals to Ban-chan's one known weakness: "She says the pay is really good."

There's silence, and then a snort. "She always says that. What's the catch?" Ban-chan knows as well as Ginji that any jobs Hevn offers usually exact a stiff fee of their own.

Ginji racks his brain for details to make his lie convincing. "We have to deal with guard dogs. And armed security. Possibly Undead Hishiki, too." He shudders and hopes that's not going over the top with the falsehoods.

There's a slightly longer silence, and then Ban-chan mutters, "Figures. Sit tight and I'll get our itinerary." He ends the call before Ginji can get in another word.

Ginji flicks his phone shut and looks at Makubex, who gives him a thumbs-up. "Got him." Onscreen, one map is displaying a blinking dot in its crosshairs. Ban-chan is still mobile, and heading east of Mugenjou. Evidently the sea is on his mind.

Relieved that the bait's been taken, Ginji waits for several minutes before opening his phone again to place another call. "Did he go for it?"

A breathy, feminine sigh seems to tickle his ear through the line. "Yes, he fell for it, Gin-chan. I'm meeting him in an hour."

"Thanks, Hevn-san. I owe you one."

"You're welcome, Gin-chan. Now," Hevn-san says, her tone switching from mildly affectionate to briskly businesslike, "about my fee…"

"But - but Hevn-san…! You said you'd help me out on this!"

Her laugh is still pleasant in its firmness. "Negotiators have to eat too, Gin-chan."

He can just hear Ban-chan in his other ear now: _Nothing in life is for free, idiot. _Ginji checks his wallet and winces. This is going to cost. For love or money… He sighs. What else can he do? "Okay, Hevn-san. I'm sure we can work something out with Paul…" Oh, if his meddling in Ban-chan's love life doesn't earn him a good pounding, forced coffee deprivation surely will.

"Very good," Hevn-san says. "I'll check in with you later to let you know how the dropoff went, Gin-chan."

They exchange goodbyes and Ginji closes his phone, face drooping. Makubex gives him a curious look. "What was that all about, Ginji-san?"

"…Makubex, where'm I gonna get that kind of money by tomorrow..?"

Emishi pats him on the back. "Look on the bright side, Ginji-san. At least Doctor Jackal hasn't killed anybody today."

Ginji remembers the doubtful look Akabane-san gave him when he explained the plan he'd come up with. His stomach quivers at the thought of the possible consequences if this idea fails. "…The day isn't over yet, Emishi…!"

--

The day isn't over yet, he keeps repeating to himself, though technically night has already fallen. Ban-chan doesn't appear to have returned yet - the Ladybug's not parked in her usual spot on the street, Ginji notices as he arrives back at the apartment building. For a moment worry threatens to consume him on the spot. What if his plan has failed? What if Ban-chan took one look at the scrapbook and decided it was all a bunch of meaningless nonsense and threw it away?

No. Impossible, he reassures himself. Of all the things that have bound them to each other, the lure of the puzzle, the infinite hidden truths waiting to be discovered, is the element most familiar in their friendship. Ban-chan is bound to recognize the book for what it is and his curiosity will surely be roused enough for him to look through it…

What he ultimately discovers at the end of it remains to be seen…but for both Ban-chan's and Akabane-san's sakes, Ginji hopes for the best.

He pauses between the doors to their respective apartments and after a moment's wavering decides to check on Akabane-san and update him. Hevn-san's report wasn't encouraging, but neither was it _dis_couraging - Ban-chan did after all accept the key to the safety-deposit box that she was to give to him. So that in itself is reason to remain optimistic.

Mindful of good guest decorum and the potential threat of disciplinary scalpels, Ginji raps on the door opposite his and waits to be allowed entry. When there is no response he tries again, and still receiving no reply he cautiously opens the door and steps inside. "Akabane-san?"

There's no answer, and Ginji wonders if he dares proceed further. Akabane-san is likely still brooding over Ban-chan's disappearance. Better to call it a night now, his waning courage offers, hoping to entice him with thoughts of a fresh snack and a warm bed.

He sees the light slicing across the floor ahead and realizes the transporter might not have heard him, being sequestered in the bedroom. Ginji starts, stops, and his shoulders slump. Oh hell. He's come this far…and he did accept a job…nothing less than the pride of the Get Backers is riding on his persistence to see the puzzle through.

He resolutely ignores the glaring fact that in addition to the retrievers' reputation it's also his blood - lots of it - on the chopping block if he screws this mission up.

Against his better judgment's wishes he locks his trembling knees and goes to the bedroom door, nudging it aside with a gentle knock. "Akabane-san?"

Akabane-san is silent, lying on the bed with his hair fanning out in a black nimbus over the pillow. His eyes are closed and his arm is draped over an open photo album resting facedown on his chest. Sleep has not given him a respite from his demons, for though he appears a restful vision at first, a closer look reveals the tension around his down-curved lips, the shadows beneath his eyes.

Upon hearing his name called he stirs, purple eyes blinking away the dream-dust clouding them. "Midou-kun?"

Ginji's heart twists almost painfully in his chest when he hears the soft note of hopefulness in Akabane-san's voice, and again when he sees the violet of his eyes drain to a gray shade at the realization that his visitor isn't Ban-chan. Akabane-san quickly schools his expression into placidity, but he isn't wholly successful. Ginji can still see the melancholy lurking behind the mask.

"It's just me, Akabane-san. I thought you might want to know how the plan's going so far."

A flicker of interest as Akabane-san sits up, smoothing his unruly hair back from his face. He's still dressed in his regular clothes, though his tie has been discarded and the top buttons of his shirt are undone. "Has Midou-kun seen it yet?"

"By now, probably," Ginji says, shifting on his feet as he leans against the doorjamb. "Hevn-san called me a while ago. She said he was still in a crabby mood - " Ginji tactfully fails to mention just how crabby Ban-chan was when he found out there was no money to be had from this 'job' - "but he took the key, and said he'd go check it out."

Akabane-san nods slowly, and his glance drops to the photo album now cradled in his lap. It's fallen open to a series of pictures that were taken not long ago, when the usual crew was gathered at the Honky Tonk. Ginji recognizes them immediately, because they are part of the cache he borrowed from the other man to make copies of.

"Ginji-kun…" The sorrow has crept into Akabane-san's voice again, despite his efforts to cull it. "I still do not understand this puzzle analogy you told me of…" Slender, long ungloved fingers pass over the laminated pages of the album as Akabane-san's eyes come to gaze upon a photograph of the couple. Ban-chan looks mildly grumpy, probably because of the unexpected intrusion of a camera lens into a moment he looks as though he'd prefer to keep private. Though the scene he and Akabane-san are in isn't even remotely racy, there's an intimacy implied by their poses as they subtly lean towards each other as if sharing a silent wavelength. Akabane-san is wearing his usual attire, dark clothing and polite smile, but his hat is missing and his face is exposed, revealing a glitter in his beautiful eyes that has nothing to do with bloodlust.

A memory suddenly comes to Ginji's mind. Not long after they'd first made her acquaintance, Natsumi-chan had been showing off her phone to Ginji, describing its camera features to him. He had jokingly aimed the lens at Ban-chan and the reaction he'd received had been less than a thrilled one. Ban-chan had acted as though he were the one about to lose something important, and the feral glare he'd directed at his best friend had made it clear that he wouldn't give it up without a fight. Disturbed by the vehement refusal, Ginji had relented and given the phone back to Natsumi without snapping a single image.

He isn't the type to let such incidents dwell on his mind, and in time it had been forgotten, until now when he's presented with this reminder. At the time Ginji had chalked it up as being another one of Ban-chan's idiosyncrasies.

He shakes his head and brings his focus back to the picture Akabane-san is looking at. In the photo, the transporter looks like he's enjoying himself, in a normal, human way. He looks…happy, Ginji realizes, even if Akabane-san himself, reserved as he is, would disagree with that description.

He knows well why he chose that picture and others like it to use for the scrapbook. It's a brief glimpse of the past that offers a window into the future, if his friend will see it…

After the second futile attempt to talk to Ban-chan, they had returned to the apartment to plot strategy. At one point Ginji had noticed Akabane-san's gaze straying to one of the walls. The object of his focus was a picture, a relaxing forest scene depicting lush trees and a clear stream. Ban-chan's reason for choosing this décor, the transporter had explained when asked about it, was that it reminded him of his childhood, of a place similar to it that he lived in long ago. It was then that the idea hit Ginji, and after some delicate coaxing Akabane-san had reluctantly departed for the bedroom closet and come back clutching an album - the same pictorial he now holds.

Ginji nods at the album. "Can I?" he asks quietly, venturing closer to the bed. A pause, then Akabane-san carefully passes the book over to him.

It seems that while Ban-chan does not like having his picture taken, he has no problem with taking the pictures himself. There are quite a few photographs squirreled inside the book, and many of them are of Akabane-san, a fact which amuses, surprises, and confuses the transporter to no end. Akabane-san doesn't mind having his picture taken, but he is at a loss to understand why anyone would want to do so, especially when the subject matter apparently focuses on him in various states of mundania.

There are pictures of Akabane-san sleeping. Pictures of him sipping wine, reading a book, and sitting on the ledge outside gazing up at the moonlit sky. Pictures of him smiling tolerantly at his camera-wielding lover, and pictures where he is deliberately posing, scalpels extended in mock-battle as he displays his talents. Pictures where he is playing a piano at a nightclub alongside Ban-chan, who is himself performing with a violin. There's even a picture of a startled Akabane-san just stepping out of the shower, hair dripping wet and skin beaded with moisture, eyes wide and face warm with color - both from the water and the shock of confronting an invasive camera. Only the towel hastily clutched one-handedly against the lower half of his body preserves his modesty.

Ignoring the blush threatening to creep alongside his cheeks Ginji turns more pages. Here is another picture of Akabane-san minus his clothes, but this one is another pose. The transporter is sitting on the edge of their bed, a black silk robe bunched in a puddle around his hips and lap, for decency's sake. His long hair has been wound into a loose bun pinned up on his head with what looks like a pair of chopsticks, the better to expose the scar running vertically over his left shoulder and down his chest. His arms rest at his sides, the palms of his hands turned up on his thighs, leaving his torso bared to the unforgiving lens.

In the photograph, Akabane-san is looking directly at the viewer, and Ginji recognizes his expression - his typical calm demeanor that hints nothing of what he's thinking, what he's really feeling. Yet his eyes betray him easily if one knows what to look for; they are the one part of him that reveal a glimmer of his inner self, and if eyes truly are the windows of one's soul then this is shattered glass he's looking darkly through.

Soft breath flutters near Ginji's ear and he almost jumps straight into the air. "This is one of Midou-kun's favorites." Akabane-san hesitates, then adds with a quiet fondness, "I rather like it myself."

The portrait is all the more stunning for having been taken in a black and white format. Ginji feels a curious sadness as he studies the picture once more. It too was one of the choices he copied. With Akabane-san's help they had sifted through this album for pictures Ginji felt would appeal the most to Ban-chan. The original photographs had been copied and the copies dissected into uneven pieces courtesy of Akabane-san's scalpels. Each set had then been arranged randomly, by Ginji, into a scrapbook, albeit with a singular flaw: every picture would be missing exactly one piece from the faces of its subjects when finally sorted together.

Only when the last piece is put into place will you be able to see the big picture. This is the lesson Ginji has learned from Ban-chan; this is the hope that both he and Akabane-san pray for Ban-chan to understand when he finishes working on each of these miniature puzzles. If the serpent and the jackal have remained together this long there must be a reason why they were fated to meet, and only if they now commit to one another will they be able to learn the truth of their big picture.

Out of the corner of his eye Ginji can see Akabane-san regarding a different picture with softened eyes. He shifts his glance to a scene of Ban-chan and Akabane-san sprawled comfortably together on their couch. For once Ban-chan doesn't look so annoyed with the camera as his lover holds it up to capture the couple's relaxation. One sleepy blue eye is open and a wry smile hints at a corner of his mouth, suggesting that he'll permit this breach of personal barriers but fully intends to get even later on.

Akabane-san's head is pillowed on Ban-chan's shoulder. His subtle smile is playful as he leans into their embrace and snaps the picture at arm's length. Here, too, is another rare example of an emotion no one, least of all the jackal himself, would believe the pale man to possess. Akabane-san's gaze has drifted into an indefinable fog as he looks upon this contradicting proof, and Ginji can immediately sense the point at which something trips in his mind and those previously forbidden gates slam shut around the transporter's wounded heart.

Akabane-san pulls away from Ginji and the photo album and goes to stand by the window, staring silently out into the night while Ginji continues leafing through the lovers' storybook. At length he speaks.

"I think it would be best to turn in for the night, Ginji-kun. It's gotten quite late."

Akabane-san's voice is almost inaudible, and the words are delivered in his impeccably polite fashion. But there's steel behind them that clearly says this subject is no longer open for further discussion. Even if he weren't already aware of the other man's peculiar abilities it would be enough to make Ginji tuck tail and beat a hasty retreat to his own haven - he's not so dense as to miss picking up on the unspoken inclusion of himself in that suggestion.

He sets the closed photo album down on the bed. "He'll come back, Akabane-san."

Abruptly there's a crack of glass. Ginji looks up and shivers as he sees a scalpel protruding from the window's lower half. Akabane-san's reflection is as calm as ever, which makes this loss of control all the more terrifying.

Incredibly, his courage musters one last stand. Ginji has to fight back the trembling with every step he takes, but he finally reaches Akabane-san and lays a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"Ban-chan will come back, Akabane-san. When he does, you have to tell him what you told me. He needs to hear it if you two are going to stay together…"

Akabane-san says nothing, but a slow quaking begins threading along his slender body, the barest of spasms bearing witness to his crumbling composure. In the cracked glass Ginji sees his reflection's eyes close. "I…I want…I want him back," the transporter murmurs, winding his arms around himself tightly. "He's the only one who understands…what it's like… You don't know how long I've waited…how much I need that, Ginji-kun," Akabane-san finishes on a fierce whisper.

Ginji has no clue what these cryptic remnants mean, and he's not sure he really wants to know. But he hugs Akabane-san anyway, because it's obvious the other man is in pain and this is the only thing he knows he can do now. Akabane-san turns into his embrace and nearly crushes the breath from him as he hugs back - he had forgotten just how strong such a skinny person could be - that soft mantle of black hair brushing Ginji's face as his head dips against his shoulder. Ginji tentatively reaches up, strokes the dark silk, and Akabane-san's grip tightens almost painfully as he utters a pitiful mewl.

It's going to be a long night for all three of them.

--

It's well after midnight when Ginji wakes up, his doze having been broken by the clicking of a key in the lock. He's scrunched up on the couch in Ban-chan's and Akabane-san's apartment, having been too tired to wander the short trip back to his own dwelling, and easily persuaded to spend the night by an ever-hospitable Akabane-san despite the other man's depression.

The front door opens, and a shadow crosses the threshold, stealthy in its advance. Ginji stays still, pretending to be asleep. His blood is beating faster, but not from fear - he knows this particular shadow by heart: it's Ban-chan, arrived home at last.

Ban-chan pauses before the entrance to the living room, noting Ginji's presence. He seems to be…thinking. Just before Ginji shuts his eyes to bolster the deception of sleep he realizes Ban-chan's brought something back with him - the scrapbook he put together that he had Himiko-chan deliver to the bank, and Hevn-san arrange to give Ban-chan the key to its location.

Please, please let the puzzle have fit together like it should…!

Ban-chan comes closer. He smells of his cigarettes, and of saltwater, and…regret, mixed with a disquieting vulnerability. Ginji forces himself to lie still, to breathe slow, easy deep breaths, like a normal sleeping person would. He senses his friend bending over him slightly, and then hears an affectionate growl.

"You crazy eel. Where would I ever be without you?"

Ban-chan moves away. Ginji waits until he hears the footsteps heading for the bedroom before risking a peek through one half-lidded eye. Ban-chan eases open the bedroom door and enters, disappearing from sight.

Fast as the lightning he wields, Ginji bounds up from the couch and tiptoes towards the bedroom.

A glance inside shows what he's looking for. Though it's dark, the moonlight streaming in from the broken window is enough to lend description to the details. Ban-chan is standing a few feet into the room, hands shoved into his pants pockets with the scrapbook tucked underneath one arm. Akabane-san is sitting on the bed looking out the window. The starch posture of his back says he's fully aware of his lover's presence.

Ban-chan speaks into the pregnant silence. "My grandmother used to tell me that I could get back anything if I really wanted it enough. Then she sicced Aesclepius on me. Since then, I've never had any trouble getting what I want when the stakes are at their highest." He pauses, shifting from one foot to the other. "Until now."

He steps closer, laying the scrapbook on the bed and extending a hand to slowly caress the side of Akabane-san's cheek.

The transporter's voice is husky as he answers. "What do you want?"

"Something's going on here…I don't know what it is." Ban-chan licks his lips nervously and when he moves more fully into the moonlight Ginji can see a few beads of sweat dappling his face. "I saw that book you and Ginji made. Is…is that what you were trying to tell me this morning? What do you see happening between us, Jackal?"

"I don't know."

"Me neither."

They continue in their silence, motionless as each man ponders the words of the other. Ban-chan hasn't ceased touching Akabane-san's face, and Akabane-san has unconsciously leaned into his lover's caresses. Ginji is struck in that moment by how surreal the scene he's watching is, and yet…it seems oddly fitting for these two to be together. They both seem to feel an awareness of a unique bond between them, or at least the beginnings of one, and both are confused, anxious, at a loss as to what to do with it - neither man has had the best track record with close relationships. Ginji is betting on the magic of the puzzle to bring them back into alignment.

Akabane-san's silken voice weaves through the night. "Ginji-kun says I ought to tell you something."

"What?"

Ban-chan's lover shakes slightly from the intake of breath he draws. "You - you make me feel alive," the transporter blurts out softly, a note of disbelief coloring his tone as if he's shocked to hear himself make such a personal statement aloud. It's an unorthodox declaration of love if ever there was one, but it's enough. Ban-chan's gaze slides to the scrapbook, and then back to Akabane-san, a noticeable warming of blue.

"I do, huh?" he says in a low voice of his own, reaching down to Akabane-san's scarred hands to pull him to his feet and away from the bed, so that they're facing each other.

Akabane-san's violet eyes flash with rare alarm, but he can't stop the confession that follows. Almost as if bidden by the spell of his lover's eyes the words begin to tumble from his lips. "You make me feel alive. You make me want. When I'm with you…the whispers aren't as loud anymore." From his vantage point behind the door, Ginji can't tell if it's the moon's shine or burgeoning tears that are making Akabane-san's eyes appear glassier than usual. "I've never encountered anything like this before. I don't understand it. But it burns a fever in my blood, and I can't let go of this blade no matter how deeply it cuts me..."

He swallows audibly, eyes closing briefly in a grimace. "Defeated by my own desires... Ones such as us cannot afford this luxury. Such emotions, humanity, it is _weakness,_" he says, and there's a thick undercurrent of loathing and fury belying that last word that chills Ginji's marrow even as it sparks curiosity about Akabane-san's life.

Ban-chan rubs his thumbs over the splotches of scar on the backs of Akabane-san's hands. "Sometimes they are. Depends on how you use 'em," he says in a neutral tone. "But you feel the other half of it too, don't you? What I make you feel…it gives you renewed strength. A power unlike anything you've ever felt."

"Yes," Akabane-san whispers.

Ban-chan smiles suddenly then, an unusual relief etched in his features. "Know what you make me feel, Jackal?"

"What?"

"You…you make me feel…normal," Ban-chan says, and then coughs up a laugh as if to cover up the awkwardness of his statement. "I guess that's kinda fucked up, huh?" He shrugs. "But it's true. Ginji made me feel worthwhile. You make me feel like…like I belong. That make any sense?"

"It makes perfect sense," Akabane-san agrees, and somehow Ginji, who also understands what his friend means and is in turn humbled and warmed by the brief mention of praise, gets the impression that it does to the pale man.

The transporter cups Ban-chan's hands in his, head bowed as he studies the contrast between marked and unmarked skin intently. "Where do we go from here, Midou-kun?"

"We take it one day, one puzzle piece at a time."

"Until we have all the pieces?"

"Until we can see the big picture. The last piece is something only the two of us, together, can place."

"Ahh." A pause, as enlightenment flickers across Akabane-san's face. "Oh - I think now I understand this strange analogy that Ginji-kun explained to me…"

"It's stupid, but it works," Ban-chan says, nodding. His look turns serious again. "I was wrong. I'm sorry, and…I - I know that - that I hurt you. I'm sorry," he repeats.

"We always hurt those closest to us. It's an unavoidable truth." Purple eyes hesitantly lift to blue, filled with a fragile hope newly born amidst the darkness. "But the damage is not always permanent…?"

"Is this your way of telling me I'm forgiven, then?"

"No. This is my way of letting you know you're forgiven."

Akabane-san moves closer and tenderly kisses Ban-chan on the lips, winding his arms around his lover in a warm embrace that lasts several heartbeats. When he draws back he lays a gentle hand to one side of Ban-chan's face and softly admits, "I missed you, Midou-kun."

"I missed you too, Jac…Akabane."

Ban-chan hugs Akabane-san and as his hands travel across his back he realizes something's not quite as it ought to be. He steps back and gives Akabane-san a questioning look. Akabane-san smiles at him and starts to unbutton his shirt. He slips it off and turns around to show Ban-chan his back.

The recent sword wound and its scarring are no longer there.

Ban-chan's eyes widen and he stretches out a hand to stroke pale smooth skin, unmarred by the blemishes of battle. When Akabane-san turns around again, sharp blue amazement darts up to meet purple serenity in silent demand. Akabane-san gives him a little shrug and an almost shyly teasing smile. "I decided I like the hickeys you leave on my neck better," he says.

Ban-chan starts to laugh, muted at first then with increasing mirth, as his lover joins him in a quiet chuckle. His own smile is back, as it should be. "Then I guess I've got my work cut out for me, eh?" He makes a sudden face. "Eh. Bad choice of words. No cutting."

"Except of pictures," Akabane-san reminds him, indicating the scrapbook of memories. "We must remember to thank Ginji-kun properly for his help."

"Meddlesome dork," Ban-chan says, but there is a distinct lack of venom in his tone. "Only Ginji would come up with such an idea. I'd just like to know where he got the money to pull off such a ballsy stunt. Hevn doesn't come cheap, you know."

Ginji grits his teeth, wishing he didn't have to think about that one snag in his grand scheme. Somehow he'll have to figure out a way of placating their negotiator when she shows up to collect her exorbitant fee…and then there's Himiko-chan's services to consider. She also isn't one to take the mention of money lightly, and worse, she has rather unpleasant ways of forcing clients to cough up payment!

"I'm sure he has a strategy in place," Akabane-san says, nuzzling Ban-chan's neck. "He's quite resourceful, our Ginji-kun, hmm?" And he looks up and directly, with a pointed smile, at the shadows beyond the open door, as Ginji - forgetting that the transporter has the uncanny ability to track him any time, anywhere - realizes his presence has not gone unnoticed. It's a lesson oft-learned the hard way whenever they've been on jobs together and he's tried to shake Akabane-san loose from his trail. Like Ban-chan parking correctly and Hevn-san giving them easy assignments, it never happens.

"I suppose so," Ban-chan is saying now, drawing Akabane-san in for what promises to be the first volley in a series of heated kisses exchanged tonight. "But I don't wanna talk about him now. I'd rather discuss us." They kiss again. "My grandmother also told me never to let the sun set on any argument."

"She sounds like a most wise lady."

"Heh. Hey, Akabane."

"Mm?"

Ban-chan fingers a few locks of raven hair by his lover's ear. "Remember our rule?"

"No killing," Akabane-san automatically responds. Ginji bites his nails and doesn't dare think about the implications of _that_ edict's existence!

Ban-chan rolls his eyes. "Not that rule. The other one." Akabane-san blinks at him and he clarifies. "Be honest. If you want something from me, tell me. Now. What do you want?"

The couple shares another kiss before Akabane-san leans in and murmurs something, too low for Ginji to catch, into Ban-chan's ear. Whatever it is, his friend looks very agreeable to it, because he grins wickedly and scoops up his lover into his arms while a pair of long legs twines around his waist. Ban-chan carries Akabane-san toward the bed.

"That, I can most definitely get back. Find me the big lube, Jackal - "

Red-faced, Ginji doesn't wait around to hear the rest. His imagination is vivid enough to fill in the blanks without assistance.

Maybe Paul was right about the meddling thing.

--

_Omake/Epilogue I: Payment in Full…?_

_The next day…_

"I _told_ you we shouldn't have trusted him. He's just like that miser Ban, no financial sense whatsoever," a glowering Himiko-chan hisses to an equally displeased Hevn-san. In this as in nothing else they are united - apparently there is one thing they can agree on: money, or the lack thereof, in this instance…

Faced with two angry and unpaid females, both of whom have the capacity to do serious damage to his pride if not his body, Ginji does what he does best. He's yet to meet anyone with the power to resist the almighty tare-form.

"Himiko-chan! Hevn-san! I _am_ gonna pay you guys back, I swear! It's just gonna take a little while, is all…"

"How long?" Hevn-san demands. "Every time you boys get money, something happens to make it all disappear!"

"Thank Ban for that, mostly," Himiko-chan growls. "He's on a first-name basis with every parking garage and towing service in Shinjuku. They send him Christmas cards and a fruitcake every year."

Hevn-san grabs a vial out of the transporter's grasp and raises it threateningly, as she takes a step nearer Ginji. "Well, if we can't get our money the conventional way, we'll have to collect payment through other means…"

Ginji blinks up at the women with tear-filled eyes. "I promise you'll get your money, even if I have to starve forever to save up enough of it because you were so kind and helped me even though Akabane-san was involved and I really appreciate you guys working so hard to uphold the Get Backers' name and _please don't make me smell the flame perfume Hevn-saaaaaaaaaan!"_

There's dead silence. Finally, Hevn-san sighs in disgust, and lowers the vial. "I can't do it. He's just too pathetic, it'd be like drop-kicking a puppy," she complains.

Himiko-chan snatches her poison back from the other woman. "Fortunately, I have no such hesitation," she says, and dumps the entire contents of the little bottle all over Ginji's head…

Ginji counts himself lucky that it was only the regression perfume. He wonders whose influence is to blame more for such ruthlessness - Akabane-san, or Ban-chan.

Stupid Akabane-san. Stupid Ban-chan. He is _so _making them buy him ice cream for this.

--

_Omake/Epilogue II: Kiss and Make-Up_

_The night after last…_

Shido ground his teeth and stood up in front of the television. "Gimme that remote, Emishi."

Emishi winced. "Shido-kun, you've got the volume jacked all the way up as it is!" He handed it over anyway.

Ginji was likewise cringing from the volume. "Yeah, Shido, it is a little loud, don't you think?"

Shido jerked a thumb in the wall's direction. "And that - " he grimaced at the moans and cries of ecstasy coming from the other apartment - "isn't? Jeez, I can't believe the other neighbors don't tell 'em to hose it down!...err…well, yeah, I guess I can," he added upon remembering Midou's and Jackal's unique abilities. "I don't know about you two, but frankly I'd rather listen to Steve Irwin hollering 'Crikey!' over and over than hear those two having noisy make-up sex all damn weekend."

Emishi put his ear to the wall and turned beet red when a particularly drawn-out moan - possibly Jackal's, by the sound of it - echoed across the hall. He looked longingly at Ginji. "You have _got_ to play matchmaker for me sometime, Ginji-san…"

Ginji just smiled.


	17. Symphony in B Major and A Sharp

Title: Symphony in B-Major and A-Sharp

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #14 - "radio-cassette player"

Rating: PG-13 (language, some adult content)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor, minor mentions of canon bits.

Notes: A small part of this fic will make more sense in regards to one reference if you've read Hail To The King, though that isn't essential.

- Lyrics from The Cat Came Back courtesy of this link: http://en. Thanks to AbstractConcept and Dinpik for beta help. :)

Disclaimer: GB is not mine. I just play with them for fun.

Summary: More slices of everyday life. Everyone has their own personal limits…

--

_Look What The Cat Dragged In_

"Look what followed me home today."

Ban blinks. Cradled in the palms of a pair of white gloves is a tiny black ball of fuzz. It's making noises that sound like his Ladybug when it's speeding on nitro. Then two impossibly huge beads of orange greet him when he peers down at it, and the fuzz puffs out as the animal glares at him and hisses wetly.

As cats go, it's the classic Halloween stereotype. Or it will be, once it grows into its adult form.

Ban looks up at Akabane with a raised eyebrow. "What do you think you're going to do with it?"

Akabane smiles, delighted with his newfound prize. "Why, keep her, of course. She must have been abandoned, poor little thing. Maguruma found her curled up inside his engine when he went to check the oil this morning. Suzume-san won't let him take her because they already have four cats. So I said she could come live with us."

Blue eyes turn dark. "Why the hell did you say a stupid thing like that for?"

Akabane cups his hands around the little creature, which settles down the instant he begins petting it again. "Why not? Cats are interesting. And she'll keep out the vermin."

"There better _not _be any vermin in this joint!"

"Any building is prone to rodent infestation without warning, Midou-kun. And there's always Shido-san to consider. The last time you two argued he was quite angry…" Akabane raises his head and looks meaningfully at Ban.

"If I hear so much as a mouse fart in this place I'll catch it and make that fucking monkey-trainer die choking on its corpse," Ban vows.

The kitten hisses.

"I don't think she likes that idea, Midou-kun," Akabane says. He tilts his head down and nuzzles the top of the furball's head. It seems to like this, for it pushes its nose back up at him and purrs loudly. Akabane chuckles.

"I don't give a shit if she likes it or not," Ban grumbles. "She's not staying here, so take her someplace else, Jackal."

"Be reasonable, Midou-kun. She has no other place to go besides the streets."

"Perfect. She can catch plenty of mice and rats out there."

Akabane looks shocked by that idea. "Have you any idea how inhospitable the outside is to felines, especially one this young? It's a known fact that indoor cats live longer and healthier lives than those allowed to wander."

"Not this one." Ban's jaw remains set. "I mean it, Jackal. The cat goes." He fishes a remote control out of his pocket and points it at the stereo, which seems to mock him with its radio advertisement for a popular brand of cat food - _but the cat came back, she wouldn't stay away, she was sitting on the porch the very next day._ One click silences the annoying refrain.

Akabane pouts. "But look at her. Isn't she adorable?" As if to throw in its two cents' worth, the kitten raises its head and bats big orange eyes at Ban, doing its best to ratchet up the level of heart-rending appeal that all kittens seem to be born with.

The cuteness spell has no effect on Ban. He glares at it and then at Akabane. "Forget it. She's another mouth to feed."

"It isn't as if we can't afford the expense," Akabane points out. "And if you'd stop parking your car in those tow-away zones - "

"Don't even go there, Jackal."

"Hmph. You know it's true." Akabane nuzzles the kitten again. "Isn't that right, neko-sama? Yes, it is."

The kitten purrs as if in agreement, shooting Ban a decidedly smug look.

Incensed by the feline's insolence and his lover's degeneration into childlike mush from exposure to its charisma he puts his foot down. "I said no. Get her out of here, now."

"And why are you so opposed to her presence? Really, Midou-kun, cats are very tidy animals - "

"Two words, Jackal: Litter box! Hunting for buried treasures ain't in my job description as a Get Backer, you get my drift?"

Hiss.

"Neither is cleaning up all the nasty little hairballs you puke up," Ban tells the kitten.

Hiss. Hiss.

"Stop antagonizing her, Midou-kun," Akabane says. He strokes the kitten's fluffy back. "There, there, neko-sama. He didn't mean anything by it."

"Have you gone completely batshit? We are not adopting that cat. Apartments don't allow pets."

Akabane looks thoughtful. "Actually, this one does, since I just came from carving a J into our landlord's back - I'm joking, Midou-kun! It's just a joke," he says quickly when Ban's face morphs into a thunderous expression.

"Do I look like I'm laughing, Jackal?"

"In all seriousness, Midou-kun, I did check the lease agreement before bringing her upstairs. She fits well within the maximum companion animal allowances." Akabane smiles. So does the kitten, closing its eyes briefly as his long fingers caress behind its ear. "Ginji-kun thinks we ought to have a pet, you know." He looks down at the kitten which swivels its orange eyes up at his lavender ones. "That's right, neko-sama," Akabane coos to it. "Yes he does. Yes he does."

"Ha! Nice try, but that excuse went out with yesterday's rainwater. Cats do _not_ like Ginji. Need I explain why? And stop talking to it like that. You sound like a moron."

"Jealousy does not become you, Midou-kun." The kitten meows agreeably.

"Me? Jealous of an animal that licks its own ass? Yeah, right," Ban snorts as he starts to turn away. "I'm taking a shower. When I get out that - " he points at the kitten - "had better be gone."

Akabane and the kitten watch him go, and then the transporter looks down at the newest addition to their habitat. "Don't you listen to that bad old Midou-kun. We'll take care of you, neko-sama."

The kitten twitches its little whiskers at him, and reaches out a paw to bat gently at his face.

"You're very welcome, neko-sama. I apologize for not having the proper necessities prepared for you in advance, but that can be easily remedied tomorrow when Midou-kun and I go shopping. In the meantime I'll try to make you as comfortable as possible. Perhaps you would like something to eat and drink first?"

The kitten meows as if to say this would be most welcome.

Akabane carries her into the kitchen, holding her carefully in one hand cradled near his breast as he sets about searching the pantry for something suitable to a kitten's palate. He talks to her as he's preparing a small dish of some canned tuna, using a scalpel to cut it into fine bits small enough for her baby teeth to grasp. "You mustn't worry about Midou-kun, neko-sama. He talks tough but he's easily dealt with if one knows his proper pressure points." Akabane smirks and places the dish and the kitten on the floor, giving her a little pat on the head as she promptly attacks the offering.

He fills another dish with some water and sets this next to the rapidly disappearing food. "There you are, neko-sama. I trust this is more to your liking?" The kitten's only reply is a snuffling of food amidst the rumble of purrs.

"Very good, then. If you will excuse me, I'll attend to our Midou-kun."

Akabane leaves their guest to her dining and goes inside the bedroom, then into the bathroom. He blinks away the steam that immediately greets him upon entering, the sound of the door closing masked by the noisy stream of hot water. He can see his lover's form moving behind the shower curtain.

Quietly, he begins removing his clothes, folding them neatly piece by piece into a pile before peeling back the curtain to join the other man underneath the spray.

"I thought you might like some company."

Ban arches an eyebrow. "Not if you're going to try to butter me up so I'll let you keep that cat. 'Cause it's not gonna work, Jackal."

"Of course not," Akabane soothes him. "Now let us speak of things that aren't boring." He wraps his arms around Ban and presses his body to him, leaning in for a kiss.

Ban permits this - the shower is, after all, one of their favorite trysting places - and reciprocates by fisting a hand in soaking black hair and pulling Akabane closer. "As long as you're in here, you can make yourself useful." He slaps him in the chest with a wet washcloth. "Wash my back."

Akabane chuckles and takes the cloth, wrapping it around a bar of soap and working this in his hands to generate a thick lather. He puts the soap back on its shelf and begins tracing the cloth over Ban's shoulders and down his back, working his fingers into the muscle in circular motions as he admires the lean physique he's presented with. Ban grunts softly, leaning back into those talented ministrations.

Akabane enfolds him in his arms, Ban's back to his chest, and nuzzles his lover's ear. "It's been a long day for you, hasn't it?" he murmurs while nipping lightly at the fleshy lobe there.

"Mm. Yeah."

"Poor Midou-kun. You're so tense," comes a sultry purr as a cloth-covered hand passes in lazy bubble-filled circles across Ban's chest before dipping lower. "What can we do about relieving that, hmm?"

"If you have to ask, you haven't been paying attention, Jackal."

Husky laughter bubbles into Ban's ear. "My, my, impatient tonight, aren't we?" But Akabane takes pity on him and turns Ban around, backing him into the cascading water to sluice away the soap. Blue eyes regard him with a hint of suspicion which quickly dissolves into hazy pleasure as firm hands work their way over Ban's shoulders and chest, and then Akabane is sinking to his knees, scattering little nips of teeth and kisses in a trail down stomach muscles before dipping his head and taking his lover into his mouth.

He sucks gently, lowering an idle hand between his own legs to stroke himself into a state of semi-arousal, secure in the knowledge that the other will finish him off when it's his turn. This time is for Ban, whose grunts turn increasingly louder the closer he comes to fulfillment.

"Now this - this is the…uhh! Best use for that well-mannered mouth of yours that I can think of," he sputters.

"Is that so," Akabane replies as he pulls back for air, letting his breath stream out over the turgid tip of Ban's penis. He leans in and swallows the organ all the way up to its base, chuckling deeply in his throat.

"_Guh! _Fuck. Do that again, Jackal!"

The shower's rains and Akabane's tongue take care of the rest, and then it's Ban's turn to reciprocate. By the time they exit the bathroom, skin flushed from more than just the hot water, Ban's mood has noticeably improved. Right on cue Akabane belts his robe into place and smiles as he makes to leave for the kitchen.

"Hey, where do you think you're off to?"

"To transport our houseguest to a more suitable place, of course, just as you requested."

Akabane doesn't get but two steps away when Ban sighs and says, "Eh, I guess…just having her overnight won't hurt…"

Akabane allows his lips to curl briefly in satisfaction where Ban can't see it. He returns to the bed and his lover. "As you wish, Midou-kun."

--

_Two months later…_

"God, budgeting is such a pain in the ass! No wonder so many people hate doing it," Ban groans to Ginji and Himiko as he pores over a list of figures and words.

Behind the counter with his ever-present newspaper Paul says, "No one likes to budget, but you're the only one I know who bitches about it."

"Bite me, Paul."

"And when one is on a limited budget that means extras like coffee and sandwiches are usually cut out," the redhead adds.

"Hey, Paul, I ever mention how cool I always thought you were?"

"Hmph."

"Grocery duty again, huh?" Himiko peers over Ban's shoulder at the list. "How'd you wind up with that chore?"

"I used Paper and forgot the bastard has a thing for Scissors," he grumbles, not looking at her.

Ginji discreetly covers the grin he shares with Himiko and then looks at his friend. "Hey, Ban-chan, will you push me around in the cart if I come with?"

"Get real. You'd never fit, you big lummox."

"I promise not to eat any of your guys' food," Ginji solemnly swears.

"Yeah, sure. And Hevn will walk in the door of the Honky Tonk wearing clothes bigger than a band-aid," Ban mutters. An idea occurs to him then, and he smacks his palm on the counter. "Crap. Forgot my phone." He looks at his companions. "Wanna do me a favor?"

"Depends on how much you're charging," Himiko says.

"For you, brat, you couldn't afford it," Ban teases her.

"I'll get it," Ginji volunteers, rising from his seat. "Where is it?"

"In the office. Just watch out for Miss Bastet when you go in," Ban tells him. "She likes to sleep in the doorway because that's where the afternoon sun falls."

Himiko does a double-take. "Miss Bastet?"

Ban looks embarrassed. "One of the cats," he clarifies with a mutter.

"I thought you only had the one."

Ban's face turns redder as he growls quietly. "We did, till Medusa brought home a friend one night…"

"Akabane-san told me Ban-chan lets Medusa sleep on his favorite shirt," Ginji pipes up.

Ban shoots him a drop-dead glare. Himiko giggles. Paul hides his smirk behind the paper.

"Cats are like potato chips. You can't have just one," Natsumi says with a wink at Ginji as she arrives to clear away their empty coffee cups.

--

_Priorities_

Ban pulls the brush through the thick locks, liking the way the light shines on hair as black as the heart of nightfall. It's grown longer, and he likes it this way, loves to run his fingers through its softness when they're resting or in bed together. Like caressing untamed satin, so do the waves spill over his skin.

Akabane sighs contentedly, his head pillowed on Ban's thigh. "Midou-kun?"

"Hm?"

"Did you remember to take out the trash today?"

Ban thinks. "No."

"Mm."

Ban keeps brushing his lover's hair, encouraged by Akabane's happy sighs. At length the other man speaks again. "Midou-kun?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you remember to turn in the rent payment?"

This time there's a noticeable pause. "Sure," Ban replies, the brush in his hand stilling its motions.

"Because it _is_ your turn this month."

"I know."

"And I simply refuse to bail you out another time."

"So you've said." The brush starts to crawl through the dark strands again.

Akabane frowns mildly. He gently bats Ban's hand away from his head and sits up, fixing his lover with a cool stare. "Midou-kun…"

Ban scowls. "I said it'd get taken care of, didn't I?"

Akabane's lips purse with disapproval. "You squandered the funds on parking fines again, didn't you?"

"I did not," Ban snaps, a little too quickly.

A slender brow arches. "Oh? Then why was your car missing for two days last weekend?"

"We were on a job. I had to park it out of sight so the target wouldn't get suspicious."

A scalpel inches its shining way through elegant fingers, which tap it in a gentle but insistent manner against one knee. "Midou-kun."

"Look, maybe I initially misplaced the money in all the fuss, but trust me, the rent's under control - "

"Midou-kun…"

"Hey, I don't give you crap about the bloodstains in the sink when you get off a job, now, do I? Cut me a little slack here, Jackal - "

The tapping becomes more solid. "Midou-_kun._"

"What's with the third degree, anyway? It's not like we're in dire straits here, you know - "

Akabane decides he has heard enough. In one smooth motion so fast it's a blur he springs from his place on the bed and pounces on Ban, pinning him on his back with a row of scalpels aimed point-first at his face. One blade is so close that one, maybe two, but not three sheets of paper could be inserted between it and the tip of Ban's nose.

"Now tell me the truth. You were caught parking illegally again, weren't you?" Akabane says, pleasant but firm.

Ban blinks. "Sort of," he hedges at last.

Akabane sighs with the air of a longsuffering parent used to confronting an unruly progeny's misdeeds. "Midou-kun," he scolds, "this type of financial irresponsibility does neither of us any good, you know."

"It's not my fault the damn cops around here have nothing better to do than write up tickets for stupid shit like parking in the white zones. What if it's a friggin' emergency? Don't retrieval specialists get some kind of exemption in an emergency? That deli was going to close - " Ban carefully, slowly reaches up and attempts to push Akabane's knife-studded hand away. "You wanna put those away before someone loses an eye here?"

The scalpels don't budge. "Midou-kun," Akabane patiently explains, "laws were created for a reason - "

"Oh, you mean like the ones about not stabbing people without reasonable cause?" Ban sasses, unable to rein in his notoriously reckless mouth in the face of typical provocation.

Lavender eyes narrow. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to change the subject. This isn't about me, Midou-kun, it's about your chronic bad habit of mismanaging money."

"Hey, hey, hey! I do _not _mismanage my money. Let me up, damn you." Ban struggles ineffectively to shove Akabane off of him. "Okay, so I fucked up and forgot about the rent. It's not a crisis. I said I'd deal with it and I will."

"Of course you will," Akabane agrees. "You're going to put off the repairs to your car's stereo and put that money towards your share of the rent."

Blue eyes blaze with defiance. "The hell I will! I gotta have tunes to go with my wheels. I suppose next you'll blame me for Ginji's shorting out the system."

"Be serious, Midou-kun. You'll always have time to have the radio repaired. But that rent is more important right now. No?"

"Jackal, if there's no radio in the car, Ginji will sing."

Akabane's resolve wavers for a split second. "Midou-kun, even I know when to put business before pleasure. I'm afraid the rent has to come first," he calmly insists.

Ban is equally as stubborn. "He likes show tunes. And fluffy pop songs."

The scalpels quiver, but remain poised in place.

"Commercial jingles, Akabane. You know that one about the strawberry pocky? Yeah. Not even you would be that cold-blooded…"

"…You can always purchase a set of earplugs…"

Ban's lower lip protrudes slightly. His eyes hold Akabane's intently. "Elevator music."

Akabane feels a pang in his chest. "Oh, Midou-kun." He sighs.

The scalpels retract. Ban trails his fingers down one side of his lover's face, along his jaw and throat, pausing to stroke the hollow indentation that's exposed where Akabane's tie and top shirt buttons are undone.

The other man sighs again, his body posture softening as he allows Ban to rise and roll him onto his back so that he's the one pinned now. "I can't stay upset with you when you look at me like that."

Ban grasps Akabane's tie and reels him in for a kiss. "What about the rent money?" he asks when they've briefly parted lips.

"I suppose I could handle it for this month. Just this once…" Smiling, Akabane lays a finger against Ban's mouth before he can say anything else. "Just promise me that next time you'll exercise better judgment when you choose a parking space. Mm?"

Ban's smile is just one shade shy of entering smirk territory. "Cross my heart and hope not to die, Jackal."

--

_Between A Rock And A Hard Place_

"Don't even think about it."

"Too late. Already thought about it."

"Midou-kun," Akabane says warningly, edging around the side of the couch while keeping a wary eye on his lover who's stalking him this fine Saturday morning. He knows that the gleam in Ban's expression bodes ill for him.

Ban however is in the mood for his own style of fun - which usually means annoying the hell out of the nearest person. Unluckily for Akabane… "What's the matter, Jackal, are you scared?" he taunts as he closes in.

Akabane gives him a frigid glare. "You know how I dislike this."

"Why do you think I wanna do it all the time?"

Akabane looks toward the bedroom and the safety of a locking door. A fight over this subject would be most disadvantageous to him. "Really, Midou-kun, have a little maturity."

"Speak for yourself, Mr. I-Like-Signing-My-Name-On-My-Victims!"

_Snick! _"Keep this up and you'll be next."

Ban gauges his distance, and springs with the swiftness of a striking snake. "Didn't your mommy ever teach you not to run with sharp objects?"

"Didn't yours ever teach you proper manners - Ahh! Midou-kun! Stop that!"

"C'mon, Jackal. Laugh it up!"

Oh, how Akabane _hates_ being tickled…!

--

_Right Of Way_

The Ladybug is a surprisingly roomy vehicle - if one knows how to pack its interior right. Today, there's just the three of them, scouting downtown Shinjuku for job prospects for the Get Backers. Ban is driving and Ginji rides shotgun, as usual, and Akabane has the back seat to himself. Ban has the radio turned on to a station playing rock music - not his usual choice, but sometimes he likes the edgier sound. A new song comes on that catches his attention.

"Turn it up. I like this song," Ban says to Ginji who obeys. The beat is contagious, and the two Get Backers are soon nodding their heads along and mouthing the words to the chorus.

Akabane isn't impressed. He likes the classical station Ban usually listens to. He leans forward, reaches for the control panel -

"Akabane-san! I wouldn't if I were you!" Ginji warns.

"Why - "

"SNAKE - "

"Ban-chan!"

" - BITE!"

The car screeches to a halt in the middle of an intersection. Furious horns blare and brakes squeal as other drivers are forced to stop or go around them. Ban tugs down his glasses a bit and glares at the one who dared attempt to change his dial.

"Jackal, there are several sacred things in this world that you don't _ever _mess with. One of them happens to be another man's radio. This is my car and my rules apply, so you get in, you sit down, shut up and hold on when you're riding with me. Now you remember that, and you'll live a long and healthy life. Got it?"

Still stunned, Akabane blinks and adjusts his hat. "…all right…"

Ban pushes his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose. He adjusts his seatbelt, fixes the rearview mirror, and flips off the rest of the traffic that's likewise greeting him.

The Ladybug putters to life once more, radio settings intact.

--

_Precious Things_

"Say…um…Akabane-san…"

"Yes, Ginji-kun?"

"How come Ban-chan's sitting all funny today?"

"Because he was poked with a sharp object."

"How'd that happen?"

"I did it."

"Why?"

"Because he tried to throw my hat in the pool on our last assignment."

"Why'd he do that?"

"Because he thought it would be amusing."

"Well, yeah, but why'd you have to stab him for it?"

"Because I don't like it when someone abuses my personal belongings."

"Um…Akabane-san…why _do_ you wear that hat anyway? It's huge! How can you even see to find your way around all the time?"

"Why do you eat ice cream, Ginji-kun?"

"Huh? 'Cause I enjoy it."

"There you are, then." Akabane sighs and pets the top of the item in question, which is currently perched atop the counter of the Honky Tonk. "My poor maligned hat…it gets no respect."

"Um, no offense, Akabane-san, but…it kinda makes you look creepier. You look better without it."

"Everyone is entitled to their opinion, Ginji-kun."

"…please don't poke _me_ with your scalpels…!"

"Midou-kun needs to learn the importance of respecting others' property. I merely demonstrated to him this value, just as I did with Kagami-kun once." White-gloved fingers caress the slit marring the wide brim.

"I still don't think you had to stab Ban-chan just 'cause he tried to get your hat all wet."

"Oh, Ginji-kun. You really are sweetly naïve, aren't you?" Akabane's smile is as sharp as a shark's tooth. "_No one_ touches the hat."

--

_You Snooze, You Lose: A Fateful Encounter_

"Come on, you know it was bound to happen sooner or later," Maguruma says to Lady Poison.

Himiko's scowl doesn't lose any of its fierceness. "I guess. But why does it have to happen on _my_ job?"

"Or mine," Ginji puts in, shooting fearful glances now and then towards the two potential combatants they're watching. "I don't know which one is scarier, Akabane-san or Ban-chan!"

"I'd say the snake bastard is more pathetic," Shido says, stooping to scratch behind the ear of his girlfriend Madoka's dog, Mozart. At the looks he gets for his comment he shrugs and says, "What? I can't help it if I'm biased."

The group looks once more to said men, who are arguing over the contents of a small box sitting in the warehouse nearby. The box is what Himiko, Maguruma and Akabane were to transport…and it's also the same item Ban and Ginji were hired to retrieve by the eccentric millionaire who contacted the Get Backers. Shido just happened to be along for the ride.

With legs planted firmly and arms crossed over his chest, Ban doesn't budge. "Jackal, I'm warning you. Back the hell off right now. I'm not even gonna argue with you over this."

"Midou-kun, you know as well as I do that a contract has to be kept here. I'm afraid you'll have to admit defeat on this one." Akabane smiles, all businesslike pleasantry.

"Over my dead body."

"That can be arranged…"

"Put those away. We both know you won't do it. I'm too interesting for you to whack."

Akabane's smile widens as he brandishes a fistful of gleaming scalpels. "Perhaps. But you _are_ interesting enough for me to fight."

Ban snorts. "I'm not fighting you over a stupid tape player."

"You've fought me over stranger things. Fruit - "

"I thought we agreed never to speak of that again!"

"Oh, you're just upset because of the money involved."

"Damn right I am!"

Akabane's quiet laughter is musical in its amusement. "Dear Midou-kun, how I find you so charming in your ire. Money isn't everything, you know."

"Whoever kind of idiot said that obviously never went without it." Ban pushes his glasses higher up on his nose. "And the kind of idiot that hired me and Ginji to get back his outdated boom box is promising us a lot of money. I am _not _eating it on this job, Jackal, so pack your scalpels and your skinny ass back home before I kick it there."

Akabane doesn't move. "Midou-kun, we transporters were here first. That gives us right-of-possession," he points out matter-of-factly.

"Oh yeah? The Get Backers found the box before you guys did, so finders keepers. Shove off, weeping loser."

"Is this going to be resolved any time tonight?" Himiko calls from the sidelines. "I _would _like to go home eventually…"

"And I want a million bucks and a hot pizza, but you don't see that happening, now do you?" Ban snaps.

"Just duke it out already and be done with it," Shido yells.

Horrified, Ginji jabs him in the ribs. "Shido! Don't encourage Akabane-san!"

"Why not? If it'll shut snakeface up…"

Akabane gives Himiko and Maguruma an apologetic look. "I'm most grateful to you for your continued patience, of course. But please, bear with me a while longer?" He purses his lips and turns back to Ban with a calm, cool glare. "Midou-kun. I'm sure you understand the importance of fulfilling the contract that a service was sent to complete. And we were hired to transport the cassette player to our client. We simply must have it." He steps forward.

Ban takes a step closer as well. "There's players all over Shinjuku, but you aren't getting this one. Just go gank another from some other warehouse. It's the shipping docks, there's gotta be tons of tape decks somewhere."

Edges click together in Akabane's hand. "Our client specifically requested this one."

"So did ours." Ban flexes his fingers and knuckles crack.

"Midou-kun, be reasonable…"

"I'm letting you walk away from this on your own two legs. That reasonable enough for you?"

Akabane sighs warningly. "Don't make me use the J."

Ban raises his right fist. "Don't make me go Snakebiting."

"We'll be here till the cows come home if they keep this crap up," Shido groans to Mozart. The dog looks up at him and whines softly as if to commiserate. A sharp whistle sends him running off.

"Is this a good idea?" Ginji asks timidly of Himiko.

She doesn't mince words. "Do you want to go eat or stand around waiting for first blood? Get in the truck."

"Better do as she says, kid," Maguruma advises Ginji. "Trust me, by the time they figure it out we'll be halfway to the east coast."

"For the last time, Jackal, that fuckin' tape deck is MINE!"

"I'm sorry, Midou-kun, but one way or another that item is coming with _me._"

"You want another smackdown like the one I gave you in Mugenjou?!"

"Would you like a matching set of sword-scars?"

Mozart returns, depositing his quarry at Shido's feet. Shido pats his head. "Good boy."

Moments later Maguruma's truck rolls away in a cloud of dust, and it isn't until the brake lights wink at them in the distance that the abandoned duo realizes anything's wrong. "The hell?" Ban coughs.

Akabane adjusts his hat, one slender brow arching in confusion. "They…left us…?"

"Where the hell do they think they're - oh FUCK! _Get in the goddamn car, Jackal!_" Ban screams, racing for the Ladybug.

"Midou-kun, I don't - "

Ban grabs Akabane by the arm and half-drags-half-pulls him into the vehicle. "Come on! If we don't hurry that asshole monkey-trainer will get all our money!"

--


	18. Coming Home

Title: Coming Home  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #20 – "the road home"

Rating: PG-13 (implied m/m)

Warnings/Spoilers: None.

Notes: Mentions bits from previous pieces in this series.  
Disclaimer: GB is not mine.  
Summary: Akabane has lived in many places, but he's never had a home…until now.

--

What a difference a year makes.

If someone had walked up to Akabane Kuroudo on the street and told him at this time in the following year that he would have a companion, and that said companion would be a volatile mix guaranteed to keep him captivated, he probably would have gutted them with a flick of his wrist. Well, first he would have chuckled politely. Then he would have gutted them. But life it seems works in mysterious ways, and so here he is, with this unusual mate he calls his personal interest.

Midou-kun is slamming the door to their apartment shut. The noise sends their two cats, Medusa and Miss Bastet, scurrying for the nearest shelter. He's throwing an absolute fit, raving and ranting about a pair of lost poodles, stale takeout food and something or someone called the bloody fucking Undead protection service. On top of all this, the client was late in paying the retrieval fee, which means that Midou-kun can't pay for a decent parking spot, which means he put the car someplace he shouldn't have, which means he's been towed again and since the banks are closed at this hour and it's the start of the weekend he can't withdraw any money to bail the goddamned vehicle out of hock. Again.

Akabane takes it all in stride. Silly Midou-kun. Even in his consistency he's amusing. Akabane makes a mental note to check the contents of his cash stores for yet another loan as he goes to greet his lover.

When Midou-kun winds down from his barrage they exchange customary pleasantries – inasmuch as Midou-kun considers a slap on the shoulder and a curt "what's up" pleasantries – and together they adjourn to the dining room. Akabane knows full well that Midou-kun is aware of his culinary talents and purposely takes advantage of this fact to get out of having to cook (and wash dishes later on), but it's okay. Making dinner is a nice way to wind down from the aftermath of his own work – which unfortunately of late has begun to be more boring than usual – and he enjoys using his knives in creative ways.

Eating always puts Midou-kun in a good mood and tonight is no exception. He greedily snarfs down his meal, ignoring the mildly reproving looks Akabane gives him every now and then while he picks at his own dish. Good food is like entertainment and art; it ought to be properly appreciated in order to get the full value of enjoyment from it. But Midou-kun is hungry and breakfast aside hasn't had a decent meal yet today, so Akabane lets this lack of manners slide. Besides, if he says anything then Midou-kun will start hounding him about how he should eat more himself because he's such a "frigging beanpole." Never mind that this is perfectly natural for him. Akabane has always been a sparse eater and his metabolism seems to get along fine the way it is.

They talk of the day's events – who flung which insult to who at the Honky Tonk, how many speed records Maguruma broke on the latest transport job, what ridiculous thing Ginji-kun did to short-circuit every street light on the block, the interesting effects that come about when Lady Poison's devolution perfume is accidentally combined with the puppet scent one. Akabane tells Midou-kun that he ought to try to get along better with Fuyuki-san if they have to work together so often because good relations make for a much smoother business partnership. Midou-kun advises Dr. Jackal to take up a second career as an oral surgeon instead, starting with Akabane so he never has to hear such a revolting idea out of his mouth again. Needless to say neither of these suggestions will be put to any serious use.

Later, they'll indulge their carnal appetites in the large bed they share, but for now Midou-kun finishes his plate and retires to the living room to switch on the stereo for some of the classical music he favors. Akabane's grown to like it as well even though it's not always his first choice in music. His own tastes are varied but he admits to having a weakness for oldies when he's not in the mood for silence.

They own a television, but neither of them is a fan of cable programming – they only have it to watch the occasional movie on DVD when the mood strikes. Midou-kun will watch just about anything but he especially likes documentaries and historical reenactments. Ginji-kun, when he visits, is a comedy buff but he's been known to watch tearjerkers before – and a large box of tissues is naturally always on hand for those occasions. Akabane prefers black-and-white classics and he particularly adores dramas and romances from what is considered the 'golden' period of Hollywood. His favorite movie of all time is _Arsenic and Old Lace,_ a comedy starring Cary Grant; his guilty pleasure is _Weekend At Bernie's._ He only watches this when he's by himself and assured of no interruptions. Midou-kun once caught him giggling over that and he's never let him live it down since.

The music switches to a relaxing violin concerto as Akabane's sipping his after-dinner wine. He looks at the messy plate Midou-kun left in his wake and smiles tolerantly if not fondly, shaking his head. It's a good thing at least one of them is the domestic type. He finishes the last of his wine and sets about clearing the table, washing everything up in the kitchen before he goes to join Midou-kun on the couch. The cats have already beaten him to the punch, having ventured forth from their cover after the initial chaos.

Akabane clears his throat quietly in disapproval at a certain sight that greets him upon entering the living room. "Mm. What did I tell you about feet on the coffee table?"

Midou-kun opens his eyes and lifts his head. He spits out the unlit cigarette he's been sucking on and makes a face as he strokes Medusa's back. "What'd I tell you about telling me what to do?" he sasses back.

"It's not proper." Akabane sighs and reaches out to pick up the offending cigarette. Midou-kun swats his hand away and retrieves it himself, having the grace this time to put it in an ashtray.

"Screw proper. It's been a long day." Midou-kun pulls off his glasses and tosses them onto the table, then displaces a yowling feline from his legs as he reaches for Akabane's waist to pull him down on the couch beside him. "C'mere."

Akabane notices he's taken his feet off the table now but wisely says nothing of this. Discretion is the better part of valor after all. He lets Midou-kun arrange him on his lap, patiently permitting the loosening of his tie and a few of the upper shirt buttons, and the removal of his gloves – Midou-kun hates those with a vengeance, he does. Truth be told, Akabane's not entirely fond of them himself sometimes, but necessity is the mother of dictation and he's worn them for so long it's become a part of his usual outfit, and he feels uneasy without them on.

When they first moved in together it took a while for Akabane to get used to the constant manhandling Midou-kun would subject him to in regards to his appearance and clothing preferences. Poor Ginji-kun was often stuck with the thankless task of refereeing more than a few misunderstandings between them whenever Midou-kun tried to alter something he didn't like and Akabane had instinctively responded with his usual volley of knives. It's taken him months just to get used to not wearing his hat indoors. Midou-kun hates that even more than he does the gloves, and has threatened to use it for an ashtray or Frisbee, depending on his mood at the time.

Not that he actually would of course. There are some boundaries even Midou-kun isn't foolish enough to cross.

When he has finished settling his lover to his satisfaction Midou-kun leans back into the cushions and smirks. "There. Much better."

Akabane smiles forbearingly. "Are you happy now?"

"Yeah." Midou-kun lifts a hand and begins to feather his fingers through Akabane's hair. "You need to learn to chill more often. It won't kill you to loosen up every once in a while, you know."

This is a usual exchange for them so there's no real nitpicking going on, and the atmosphere between them remains pleasantly relaxed. "It's simply habit for me," Akabane says, which is his standard response.

Midou-kun knows his next lines well and he recites them with the ease of a practiced actor. "Habits are made to be broken."

Akabane can't help it. His smile deepens a bit. "You are a bad influence, Midou-kun."

His lover grins back. "So I've been told."

They relocate a dozing Miss Bastet to the arm so that they can recline together on the couch, Akabane nestled partway atop Midou-kun's body with his head resting on his chest. He listens to the heartbeat there, hears the steady intake and exhalation of breath; it's like a symphony in its own right. This rhythmic enchantment of blood is his special music to relax to. Akabane turns his face and nuzzles the patch of skin exposed by the dip in the tank top, inhaling the heady scent of Midou-kun's essence. Like fine wine, only more inebriating. With a sigh he closes his eyes, basking in the indulgences of home.

Home. Now there's an odd word. In its basic form it simply means one's place of residence. To someone like Ginji-kun it might imply a place of security, an environment of refuge where people are cared for. And knowing Midou-kun, he would agree, for though his lover has not received much benefit by way of security during his life, he does have a familiar haven of concerned acquaintances to turn to when he has need of them.

Akabane has lived in many places, but he has never had a home. Though considering his and Midou-kun's respective abilities, he feels their dwelling is reasonably secure. And it is furnished with enough creature comforts to make it a suitable refuge from the demands of work. And they do enjoy each other's company, or learned to, after a fashion, so perhaps the word home is applicable after all.

He wonders at this curious feeling of…contentment, a strange sort of peace he's found ever since Midou-kun came to live with him in this, their…home. Actually, he finds it interesting that his life has taken such an unusual turn ever since he met the Get Backers. He can't seem to remember a time before then when he was this…

Happy?

No, that's not exactly it, he thinks. But still, there is a unique satisfaction within that's rare for him to feel, much less acknowledge. Akabane idly traces a bare fingertip around one of Midou-kun's shirt buttons, his relaxed state being aided along by his lover's petting. Midou-kun is endlessly fascinated by his hair and likes to play with it as often as possible. When he got used to it Akabane found that he quite enjoyed having his hair touched – now he even lets Midou-kun brush it sometimes, if the mood strikes him so. He makes a tiny noise of delight as those strong fingers card through the silky strands by his ear.

Midou-kun speaks, a quiet rumble of vibration in his chest. "What are you thinking about?"

"You."

He can't see it unless he tilts his head up, but he knows that Midou-kun is smiling now. "Careful, Jackal. You'll give a guy an inflated ego."

Akabane looks up at him, a faint expression of amusement softening his eyes. "But yours is already enlarged," he teases back.

A throaty chuckle unwinds from his lover. "That ain't all that's enlarged."

"Midou-kun!" Akabane gives him a glare of mock censure. "Is that all you ever think about? Besides money, that is."

"I don't hear you complaining every night." Midou-kun flashes what's been dubbed by some of his followers as his 'bastardly' grin. Akabane can see why – it's large and wicked and full of supreme confidence. Or arrogance, depending on whom it's discussed with. He slides the hand that's not busy caressing Akabane's hair down his back and gives his posterior a firm squeeze.

An answering surge of heat floods his body and pools in his groin, setting sultry amethyst eyes alight with desire. Just the thought of coupling with his lover arouses him instantly, always fresh is the memory of those powerful hands, that resilient body, bringing him to the heights of such intense pleasure…be it in battle or in bed, Midou-kun is always exciting. "Mmm. Don't tease if you don't intend to deliver," Akabane purrs, moving up slightly and in for a kiss.

They share a gentle touch of lips and Midou-kun speaks in a husky growl. "A Get Backer _always_ finishes his job."

"So does a transporter." The kiss is deeper and lasts longer this time.

"Then what the hell are you waiting for, Jackal? Transport our asses to the bedroom so we can get this party started."

They both chuckle at that as they rise simultaneously from the couch to finish what they've begun. "As you wish," Akabane says with a smile, unable to resist another coy barb. "But I'm expensive. Can you afford me?"

In answer Midou-kun picks him up and slings him over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. "Akabane, I'll tell you the same thing I tell Paul. Put it on my tab."

He proceeds to carry a laughing Akabane to their bedroom. "Very well. But you should know that I will collect on that…"

A flick of the scalpel is all it takes and Midou-kun's pants drop around his ankles to the floor. He stops in his tracks and tosses Akabane onto the bed, glaring in disbelief at both him and his ruined clothing.

"Starting now, I assume."

Akabane doesn't say anything. He just smirks and drags Midou-kun down onto the mattress beside him, where they have no further need for words save the timeless language of bodies united in motion.

They say that home is where your heart is. A wandering jackal used to think he had none such, until one day a mysterious snake crossed his path in a flurry of colorful scales and intrigued him enough to follow its tempting lead. Whoever would have thought that the long road home would lead to this – and to each other?

-----


	19. The Seventh Wave

Title: The Seventh Wave

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #29 – "the sound of waves"

Rating: PG-13 (adult content, innuendo)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor ones for Ban's past (mostly manga canon)

Notes: A sort-of sequel to Worth A Thousand Words and Hideaway. It's not essential to have read those two, but this fic will make more sense in regards to a few things if you have.

Disclaimer: I don't own GB.

Summary: Ban gets a new idea, and Akabane gets a new tattoo.

--

The shockwaves roll off the walls like thunder pounding over the hills of a western plain. Every now and then Akabane has to flit from place to place, both to avoid becoming entangled in the fight he's watching and to keep up with the fighters. He's excited – Midou-kun in battle is truly a wondrous sight to behold – and he can't wait to join the action, but first – oh, torture! – he is bidden to observe, to learn from his lover a new point of interest.

"I want you to stand down," Midou-kun had told him just before the foe had challenged them. "Just for a while. When I want you to step in I'll call for you. Until then, stay put and watch me. I want you to learn something from this." And Akabane, being the good-natured person that he is, had agreed, though with a measure of disappointment. Patience is not always his strongest suit, and the thrumming of his blood, his lover's blood, the enemy's blood, in his ears and all around him is rolling-crashing-ebbing-building-rushing through his body, and he trembles with an arousal that's akin to carnal desire.

Still, spectatorship has its own advantages, and Akabane is not displeased by the show his lover is putting on. His eyes narrow as he takes in the immediate scope, mentally plotting out the fighters' moves seconds before they spring their respective attacks, and in the back of his mind he notes where his assessments have proven true and files away the misassumptions for later study and correction. By the time Midou-kun calls for him, he has calculated an impressive battle plan, and proceeds to demonstrate to the enemy why it is very foolish to underestimate evil-eyed men and their shadowing jackals.

Battered and bloodied, the opponent scurries into a sheltering dust cloud, as far away from his conquerors as he can get. A part of Akabane longs to follow and finish the job, once and for all, but the other half of his focus reminds him of Midou-kun's objective, and he halts his charge and looks to his lover for vindication.

Midou-kun slips a cigarette from his ever-present pack into his mouth and lights it. He takes an easy draw on it and blows a spiral of smoke into the air before nodding at Akabane. "Fast learner, eh?" Twin blue diamonds ease from the glacial stone reserved for the opposition, as his expression morphs into an approving smile. "Good job, Jackal."

Akabane beams. He's having fun, and he didn't even have to kill anyone to fulfill his pleasure this time. Strange, isn't it?

They'll have to do this again soon. It's rather...interesting.

--

As did the witch clans before him, and those who embodied the legendary Aesclepius on earth, Ban has learned to feel all the ways that the world is. This uncanny sixth sense has saved his butt on more occasions than he can remember, and it comes in handy whenever he realizes that Ginji's doing an unauthorized transformation and needs a fast reality check before the hailstorm really blows out of control.

Sound – vibration – is one of the things Ban has learned to apply his keen powers of interpretation to. Snakes are believed to be mostly deaf and so discern others' movements by body heat and the particular vibrations of the earth; his hearing is fine (except for when Paul's complaining none-too-subtly about the Get Backers' high tab and then he develops a mysteriously sudden block) and though he possesses no Jacobsen's organ he is able to sense on a limited basis the distinctive aura another gives off in his presence. At the peak of his power, Ban can feel the waves of chi with every breath, every heartbeat and every thought he experiences, as if he and the other were one and the same.

This was an extremely disconcerting feeling when he first met Akabane. He hadn't thought that anyone else could ever match his level of malcontent.

Only someone who has spent enough time with him, worked with him, and lived long enough to foster the patience and determination it takes to get to know the good doctor would realize exactly how much has changed. Jackal still loves a good fight, still won't hesitate to sign up for when the going gets really tough, but his lust for violence has tempered off at the bloodletting point, just to the better side of death. Death warmed over might be more like it... Ban is practical about his expectations in this department and so wisely picks his (verbal) battles over this subject, more or less. Having made a close study of Akabane, the Witch Queen's grandson was at first quite unsettled to realize how alike the two of them were, though he took great pains to prevent this unease from becoming visible to anyone.

To chart his progress from child to adult Ban divides his life into sections, depending on the family he's with at the time. The default with his mother and father had swiftly ended with strained ties amidst the trio, Ban having been shipped off for a boarding with his grandmother. That tenure hadn't lasted long either, mainly because the old bat had evidently decided he needed further training not currently in the vicinity. That, or she was just fed up with Ban's attitude and habit of pranking all the staff in her home with his Jagan, once he learned how to wield it effectively. Given that by then he'd also fallen away from speaking terms with the Miroku family, it was probably just as well to move on.

In any case, he wound up with Maria, who, although an able teacher and kindly confidante (inasmuch as he considered anybody worth trusting back then), couldn't fill the void in young Ban, and in due time he was on his way again. He spent his early beginnings hustling anyone and everyone who would give a scrawny street punk a second glance that didn't involve, shall we say, certain prospects...until one day he made the unbelievably good choice to attempt to rip off a pair of thieves and got caught.

Up to that point Ban had never really felt like he had a home; being unofficially adopted by the Kudou siblings changed that. But either someone in the universe really hated him, or shit actually does happen at random, because a short time later the first real happiness he'd known in a long time was abruptly yanked out from underneath him like the proverbial rug. The loss left Ban flailing and drowning in a sea of black rage and hate – for the shitty hand life had dealt him, for gods or fate or whoever it was that supposedly ran the whole joint, for the Voodoo Curse, for those that hunted and tormented others whom they deemed less than human, all because of their unique traits, for all of humanity's shortcomings and cruelty, and God help him – even a measure reserved for Yamato for asking Ban to end his life. But most of all, anger and helpless fury and hate for himself – internalized until it had compacted into a hard, cold mass of seething contempt from all those years of putting up with other people's abuse, the taunts and whispered barbs about witches, ghosts, demons...

Demons are the popular scapegoats of the universe. Demons can't possibly have souls or hearts, or emotions, feelings...can they...?

A king from on high looked upon one such demon, and declared that the answer was yes. Ginji's faith, his purity, gave Ban the will to live again, and though he's loath to speak of such things Ban would without hesitation swear fealty to this gentle Emperor all over again for eternity, if he were asked to do so. He would do it even without being asked. For Ginji showed him that there were still good things in the world, things worth hanging on for, worth fighting for, worth living – and dying – for (which is why Ban's so hell-bent on living up to the protection part of the Get Backers' duties; why take that one-way ticket prematurely?), and only Ginji could ask Ban to walk through fire on bare feet knowing that any wish he truly wanted would be granted without question.

Of course, adoption into the Amano clan carries with it a whole lot of its own baggage...and string...and circus acts...but that's another story. Anyway, it's an acceptable nuisance of a price to pay, considering what he gets in return.

So now Ban is in the process of adding yet another branch to what he deems with wry affection his haphazard family tree. In surfing the tides of despair he's come to recognize patterns, signs, and Akabane has plenty to spare. They haven't yet discussed in full their respective lullabies of darkness. But one day, perhaps not far off, the time will come when they'll both have to choose between wholeheartedly embracing the swell, or stepping away from those endless ocean waves before the bitterness drags them permanently into its depths.

Ban still isn't sure if this is possible for Akabane. Burdened with the curse of his own heritage, not to mention Aesclepius breathing down his neck, he doesn't even know if he himself can do it. But he clings to Ginji's trust in the simplicity, the beauty and goodness of life, and he hears the faint melody woven throughout it that bids him turn away from the siren song's deception. One way or another, he's determined to beat the dealer of universal cards and get back all things Lost.

That's not just personal desire speaking. Professional pride is on the line as well. The Get Backers haven't accrued a 100 percent success rate for nothing...!

--

Akabane lives through sensation; indeed, he would not deny the accusation that he is a hedonist, thriving in the intensity of the moment and agitating through the longer periods of mundania, passing the time in ordinary repetitiveness until he can once more prove his existence in the spray of blood, the flash of knife, the heat of battle. Everything else is just going through the motions, as he waits and watches for his opportunity.

But if everything is sensation, stimuli to be either enjoyed or endured, then what is this lack of tension he's been feeling lately? The quiet restlessness he's always thought of as a natural part of himself has mysteriously vanished and been replaced with a strangely soothing peace. Not coincidentally, this started happening about the same time he met the Get Backers, Midou-kun in particular.

To Akabane, who appreciates pleasure wherever it is found, viewing his lover asleep is quite the fine art. Their bedroom is warmed by the morning sun and their comfort ensured by the cocoon of blankets swathing the pair – Midou-kun drags extra ones along as he claims that Akabane keeps stealing the covers, which of course isn't true; Akabane knows full well which ones belong to him and merely takes back what he considers his property, that's all – and on occasion the transporter is first to stir from the embers of dreaming.

He likes to spend those precious waking moments admiring his still-dozing lover: the play of light in the fine brown hair, the contrasts between the sharp features of his facial structure and the soft textures of their adornments; Midou-kun's skin is almost as fair as his own and his lips, eyelashes, flutter as enticingly as the brush of a butterfly's wing with each breath he takes. In sleep he presents a restful alertness, for his expression, while benign, easily hints at a ferocious response should someone be foolish enough to disturb this basking serpent. The whole effect would be perfect...were it not for his lover's wide-open mouth and the trail of drool winding a glistening streak down one corner of his chin.

Akabane restrains himself from touching, and thus possibly disturbing, such an interesting picture, though the temptation is great. Instead he smiles and curls up beside Midou-kun to patiently await the time when his lover will join him to watch the beginnings of a new day, and they can share the unspoken rhythm of a hunter's dawn.

Pleasure, after all, comes in many forms. Akabane thinks that Midou-kun in the morning is every bit as beautiful to behold as when he's fighting an opponent with all instincts unleashed.

--

Ban doesn't often cop to his softer side. Ginji is usually the only one able to prod him into allowing that vulnerability out from its locked cage. Though it's never easy for Ban to do this, it gets a little more so each time. Lately, the frequency with which it peeks out through his blue eyes has increased. This bothers him in ways he prefers not to acknowledge, but can't help doing so regardless. Both Ginji and Akabane are stubborn as hell when they latch onto something. This especially pisses him off when it concerns things he'd rather let lie, but try telling that to either of his shadows, who remain cheerfully oblivious to his protests.

Ban isn't sure whether to attribute his inner surfacings to his partner's relentless harping or his lover's quiet determination. Ginji is about as tactful as a sledgehammer but often hits on the pressure point with uncanny insight. Akabane is much less obvious about it but no less ruthless; his forays are timed with as much precision and are as clear-cutting as befits such surgical skill.

In a twisted sort of way, Ban supposes, a part of him deep down appreciates their interest and concern. They're really the only people – aside from Himiko and Yamato – who ever cared enough to bother. As for the other two, well, the former and he have only recently reestablished a shaky communication, and the latter is no longer able to speak his piece...at least, not in this world.

So it is with no small trepidation that Ban allows himself to focus, really focus, on his lover, and ponder the strange fate that's brought them together when every instinct and conventional wisdom states that they should be enemies. But it's hard to think of Kuroudo Akabane as an enemy these days despite his penchant for socially displeasing antics that involve offing one's other enemies when there's no clear need to do so. Harder still to think of him as cold-blooded, when the man displays a rare and surprising solicitousness that doesn't wholly spring from simple courtesy (which is as much of a mask he wears as is the no-holds-barred image Ban has concocted of himself, or the eternally happy clown's face Ginji wears).

Or in moments like the current one, where Akabane lies tangled with him in the rumpled sheets of their bed, his pale face revealing honesty that until now no one had ever glimpsed, those beautiful purple eyes darkened to a deep plum shade from their passion. There's a heightened intimacy to their lovemaking lately, another sign that their union has taken on an evolving direction. Much like Ginji, Akabane doesn't question or judge. He's content to take Ban as he is, without demands, without regrets. That this jackal is one capable of deep affection – they each prefer to think of it in their minds as such, because neither man can bring himself to admit its full truth just yet, and to name it anything else would somehow cheapen their affinity in light of their respective traits and histories – is a question no longer in doubt. The answer is in the way that Akabane looks at him, the way that Ban looks back, and the precious trust that passes unspoken between them with nary a scalpel or fanged bite in sight.

Ban thinks that Akabane has the face of an angel. He won't say this out loud, however. Knowing Jackal, he'd infer from the compliment that Ban is calling him an angel of death. And that sort of inspiration is not the kind Ban wants to nourish in his lover.

He cradles Akabane's face in his palms and keeps silent instead, letting his fingers trail with appreciation over the fine features, as if examining a work of art. Priceless this man is indeed, though in another sort of way that can never be measured by coin. Akabane is silent, solemn, gazing back at him with keen reflection. He understands as well as Ban does that words are superfluous here; to disturb the tender silence that cocoons them would be almost sacrilegious. Long, slender fingers reach out to touch Ban with the same reverence. Ban captures one limb in his hand, still cupping Akabane's cheek in his other, and he lifts his lover's hand and presses a gentle kiss to the scar marring its otherwise pristine surface. Akabane is surprisingly sensitive and Ban takes advantage of this to caress and touch the other man frequently, knowing that he enjoys these sensations.

Akabane's eyes briefly flutter closed – he has lovely eyelashes too, thick and sooty-like against his cheeks – and something in his expression darkens momentarily. Pain, or pleasure, Ban can't immediately tell.

He looks at the scar. It looks as if something was driven through the flesh – a spike, perhaps, or some other type of blunt object. With that much damage it would be a shock that Akabane could use his hands at all, but his unusual healing powers lend a new dimension to the enigma. Why he retains the scars is a mystery known only to him.

Ban strokes the darker tissue and looks at Akabane. "It protects you when they come out," he says finally, making it sound more of a statement than a question about the lethal surprises that can emerge without warning from his lover's flesh.

Akabane slowly nods. "Some." His fingers curl around Ban's. "It's...complicated."

Ban accepts this as simple explanation and kisses the scar again, then kisses Akabane on the mouth.

Akabane smiles at him – a real smile, not the sterile kind the public at large usually sees, but one he reserves only for select people privileged to view the warmth of his humanity – and responds by starting to kiss an unhurried path down Ban's torso. He's eyeing Ban's scars now. Ban finds it oddly amusing that his lover should be fascinated by such small markings when Jackal's are much more impressive.

Akabane nuzzles the one he gave Ban. "Our first joining," he remarks happily, referring to the time when he and Ban were briefly linked through that bloody bond during the IL caper. "Do you think it was fate?"

"That wasn't fate, you idiot, it was me blocking your ass from getting fried by Raitei. Which I still haven't been thanked for, by the way."

Akabane's laughter is silvery amusement. "Shall I express my gratitude properly, then?" he asks coquettishly, before bowing his head towards Ban's groin and the other scar located therein.

Ban had told him about it once, when Akabane's curiosity was piqued by the little crescent-shaped mark. Aside from her vitriolic and often hysterical rants, it's the only other memory Ban really has of his mother, although he isn't clear on the exact specifics. What he does know is that of all the things he's most thankful to his grandmother for, it's the fact that Baba prevented the senior Midou from cutting off little Ban's penis in the nick of time.

Akabane bathes the scar with his tongue, worshipping it with exquisite care, and considering the area it's located at it isn't long before Ban starts to voice his appreciation for the attention. "You wanna go for another round?" he rasps, hips twitching from the light dragging of Akabane's nails across their edges.

The other man looks up, lips curving into a playful smirk. "Midou-kun," he mock-scolds, "what am I to do with you?"

"What's it look like?"

Akabane sighs with pretended aggravation and dips his head back to Ban's lower body, nuzzling his abdomen. He studies the scar left by the mother of his lover.

"Did it hurt?"

"Like hell."

Akabane kisses the mark, a soft brushing of lips on skin, and then moves back to the one made by his sword. "Did this hurt?"

"Like fucking hell."

Purple eyes lower and cloud over as a thought occurs to Akabane. "What is death to you, Midou-kun?" he asks quietly after a pause.

Ban considers this, lightly sifting his fingers through Akabane's long dark hair. The repetition comforts them both, as he finally gives his answer. "It's two sides of the same coin. For some people, it's a blessing. For the rest of us, it's our worst nightmare."

"What is it for you?"

Ban thinks some more. "Fate, I guess. It's gone hand in hand with my life ever since I was born." He thinks fleetingly of his relatives, of the dire predictions his grandmother made, of Yamato and Himiko and Ginji and Paul's cautions concerning the Get Backers' friendship. _Until this cursed fate is over..._

Silence shrouds them once more, but before it can settle too deeply he continues. "I guess that's kind of why I turned to retrieving. It pisses me off when something or someone thinks they can run my life like it's some sort of blueprint for their warped ideals. I like proving them wrong." Blue eyes harden intensely. "I may not be able to stop the specter of death from getting its greedy mitts on me eventually, but I can sure as hell spit in its eye every chance I get when it comes to others."

Akabane nods slowly, taking this in with somber regard. He lowers his head, and with deliberate care, kisses the scar on Ban's flesh that remains as proof of the lien that death plans to collect in full someday. When his gaze meets Ban's again he says softly, "I'm sorry."

Ban reaches up and pulls him down, closer, to curl against his side. "Don't be," he says, having caught the note of genuine grief in his lover's tone. "The past has its value too. Even if it's the one thing we can't always get back. But Jackal..." He hesitates, swallows through a sudden tightness in his throat as he prepares to put into words some of what he's been thinking lately. "Akabane...we can still control our future, through the present. If nothing else, I want that chance. Would you share it with me if I asked you?"

His lover's face softens into a contented glow as he answers with a whisper. "I would follow you anywhere, Midou-kun."

Ban watches the myriad emotions he's feeling reflected back at him in fathomless, breathtaking violet. He gathers Akabane into his embrace and kisses him, one hand slipping along and down a pale shoulder to rest over the strange sigil tattooed on his lover's upper left arm, its ebony coils flexing like a cobra's muscles as Ban rubs his thumb across its surface. He has his suspicions as to its secrets, but he isn't ready to reveal them yet.

For now, it is enough that they have each other, this understanding. Even if neither of them is yet able to say the words.

They lie together, bodies dappled by shadows as they move in silent harmony, spinning dreams for each other of what had once been, what is now and what could hopefully be.

--

They are walking on the beach when the idea comes to Ban, a sudden jelling of random thoughts drifting aimlessly through his mental horizon and formed into a ripple of inspiration. "Hey, Akabane. Ever been to Europe?" Ban asks, stirring the ocean's surf lazily with a bare toe.

Akabane blinks. "No."

"Wanna go?"

His lover chuckles. "Midou-kun, be serious. You haven't the financial means for such a journey. And I have six transport jobs coming up in the next two months. How would we ever manage it?"

Ban shrugs. "Dunno. It was just a thought."

They pause at a swell of sand and watch while Ban skims the frothy tides with his feet, looking for bits of interest. "I like coming out here. Don't know why, but I do. I don't get to go very often. Damn gas costs, and the meters charge too much so I have to park way back there and hope I don't get towed." Ban looks across the endless expanse of sea, blue eyes narrowed in distant thought. "But it's relaxing. I can hear myself think for once. Even with Ginji running circles around me."

He smiles at the recollection and so does Akabane, both of them now quite familiar with the childlike glee that Ginji takes in the simple pleasures of life.

"Here. Take your boots off and try a dip." Ban tosses a sack containing his own boots and socks to one side and kneels to help Akabane with his. "It's like getting a free massage. Yeah, roll your pants up. You'll get soaked otherwise when the waves roll in."

Barefoot, Akabane ventures closer to the ebbing waters. He yelps when they charge him in a rush of spray that nips at his toes. "It's cold!" He darts back by Ban's side, out of range.

"Weather's getting into the seasonal change."

"But we might catch a chill," Akabane frets.

"More time in bed for us, then," Ban retorts, and grabs a gloved hand as he stands up. "Come on."

They stroll into the path of the flowing tide, the little squeaks of discomfort that Akabane's making while he gets used to the temperature amusing Ban to no end. He starts talking again. "I spent a lot of time in libraries as a kid. I'd pull out these huge maps of the world and plot all the places I'd visit when I got rich. The oceans look so big on paper but until you actually see them for yourself you have no idea how enormous they really are. You get the sense that you're this lone ship cast adrift at fate's mercy. The only way to find your way home is to take the reigns of that ship and follow your own northern star."

Akabane smiles. "You should have been a navigator instead of a retriever."

"Nah. I couldn't handle being marooned in the middle of nowhere with Ginji, we'd kill each other – I'd throw him overboard after he eats the last ration, and he'd electrocute me by accident when I reached down to help him grab the flotation device." They laugh, and Ban grins before returning to a contemplative state. "The ocean is kind of like a metaphor for life, you ever notice, Akabane? You're all alone out there, and then one day the sun rises and you realize you've floated into the path of someone who's trying to ride out the waves of the storms just like you. And you don't feel so...lost, anymore."

"That's certainly an interesting way of putting things," Akabane says, drawing back the loose strands of hair that are whipped into his face from the breeze. Ban had convinced him to leave his hat in the car. His gaze traces the line of the sea's horizon where Ban is staring out, and after a long pause he admits, "But accurate, I must agree."

"I'm not originally from this area, you know," Ban confesses quietly. "Where I came from...it was a mixed bag. I have a few good memories of the place, but a lot of not-so-good ones. I thought if I put some distance between me and there I'd find greener pastures. I did, but not the way I was expecting to."

Akabane gives him a curious glance. "Why do you wish to return to Europe, then, if it displeases you so?"

Ban nods at his lover's keen perception of what was left unsaid. "Sometimes in order to go forward in life, you have to go backward a bit." He ducks his head, not looking at Akabane while he's swinging the sack with their footwear in it. "And it wasn't all bad. Some of the countryside is downright gorgeous." He stops to light a cigarette. "I think...I have unfinished business I have to deal with, before I can look completely ahead to what I have here. There's someone in Europe I may have to talk to first. If she's still accepting visitors, that is."

"An old flame?" Akabane asks teasingly, but there's a faint – a _definite_ hint of – jealousy! – in his voice that makes Ban, who enjoys provoking these flashes of emotion, smile. It seems that jackals would mate for life as well as humans.

He wraps his arms around his lover's waist and strokes his windblown hair reassuringly. "Hardly. Weird old crones don't wind my crank, if you know what I mean. Especially not one who happens to be the last great witch of the twentieth century."

Placated, Akabane lets Ban link arms with him and falls into step along his side once more. "Who is she if not a former interest, then?"

"My grandmother."

The ocean does the talking then, speaking in the rhymes of its rolling waters. Eventually Ban acknowledges the surprised look Akabane is giving him.

"What?"

"Would this be the same Witch Queen from the legends?"

"Yeah."

"The same one whose Evil Eye was renowned and feared across the lands?"

"Yeah. She's the one who gave it to me."

"Oh my."

They walk in silence some more, and then Ban says, "I want you to meet her. I think she'd be interested in you." He pauses and adds, "You know about Himiko and me, right?"

Akabane studies him with a mixture of puzzlement and wariness. "Yes. What I don't understand is why you won't tell Himiko-san of any of this. It bothers her, Midou-kun, not knowing who she is or what her mysteries hold. She never speaks of this to me, of course. But I know."

Ban lets out a weary sigh. "I know. But...it's complicated, Jackal. I can't say anything just yet. The time's not right."

"Will it ever be right, for something such as this?" Akabane reminds gently.

"Point taken. But all just the same, I'd rather do it my way," Ban says. "That's partly why I thought about heading back to the Old World."

"As you wish." Akabane kisses his temple.

Ban finishes off his cigarette and stubs it out in the wet sand. "What about you? What was life like for little Jackal?"

Akabane twines his fingers with Ban's. "It doesn't matter now."

"Why not?"

"Because I have you." Akabane stops and smiles at him.

The transporter looks so devastating, with the wind feathering his dark hair across his pale skin and the sinking sun painting those amethyst eyes with its warm glitter. Ban can't help himself, and pulls Akabane in for a kiss.

Neither of them notices the seaweed tangling around Ban's ankles, or cares about the water that's drenching the lower tails of Akabane's flowing coat. All that matters is this moment, this magic, this feeling of suspension in a world where only shared desires count. When the kiss ends Ban releases the other man's lips but doesn't let go of his body.

"Let's go to Europe. You and me, Jackal." His voice is all husky warmth that's surprising even to him.

Akabane trails white-clad fingers over Ban's cheek. "When?"

"I'm not sure yet. It'll take some time to build up the funds. Probably next summer..." Ban's voice drops off as he momentarily loses himself in the details. "Yeah. Everybody should see Europe at least once in their life."

Akabane smiles and rests his forehead against Ban's. "I would like that very much, Midou-kun."

"In the meantime, there's someplace else I want to take you..."

Later that evening, as they leave the tattoo parlour in downtown Shinjuku, Ban is grinning like a fool and Akabane's face is radiant with bliss.

--

A week later finds the brains-half of the Get Backers in full-on plotting mode, putting together cobbled lists of details involving expenses, itineraries, and ideas. When Ban gets serious about making a plan, there's no stopping him...

...that is, until Akabane intrudes on his grand scheming. His lover enters the office with his typical flair, even though he's clad in worn jeans and a grey tank top. The edge of the top has ridden up a little, enough to expose a hint of navel, and the view is further improved when Akabane reaches up and stretches languidly like an indolent feline.

Ban pushes away from the desk and swivels around in his chair. Still sitting, he scrolls over and reaches for that slender waist, pulling his lover in close to nuzzle the exposed patch of skin. "Didn't I say I wasn't to be disturbed, Jackal?"

Akabane chuckles and laces his gloved hands around Ban's shoulders. The gloves he's currently wearing are large, yellow and rubber - it's his turn to deal with housekeeping duty today. "Yes, but I think it's time for you to take a break. All work and no play makes Midou-kun dull, hmm?"

Ban lightly chews the skin of his lover's belly. "We are not going out to fight right now."

"And you accuse me of having a one-track mind." Akabane smiles forbearingly down at him. "I was going to invite you into the kitchen for some coffee and biscuits while we discussed other subjects."

"Such as?"

"Your distressing tendency to invent new disposal facilities. Really, Midou-kun," Akabane gently chides, leaning over him towards the desk and picking up a crumpled paper cup stuffed with cigarette butts. "Ashtrays were created for a reason."

Ban takes the cup and crunches it completely in his fist, then tosses the disgusting mess into the trashcan with a shrug. "It was convenient. You'd just complain to me anyway even if I did use a regular ashtray."

Akabane smiles with guilty but unrepentant acknowledgement. "It's bad for you."

"So's getting a J in the back."

Akabane laughs and kisses the top of Ban's head. "Then don't you think you'd better listen to my advice? I'm speaking to you not just as your lover but as a trained physician. It isn't pretty, what those things do to your lungs." He takes off his gloves, which land with a rubbery plop onto the desk, and strokes the waves of brown hair falling over Ban's face. "It would be such a shame if we couldn't play together any more..."

Strong fingers squeeze Akabane's waist and slip around to rub the small of his back. "Might I remind you that you once gave me a pack of cigs instead of a health lecture?"

"Yes, and I admit that was rather poor judgment on my part. But still, that was different. You'd had a hard day and I thought a small comfort like that might cheer you up."

"And make me more inclined to fight you."

"And make you more inclined to fight me," Akabane agrees pleasantly, cradling Ban's head against his abdomen.

"Mm-hmm. And as a doctor, you're no doubt also aware of the confrontational temper that usually results from nicotine withdrawal. Thus, your ulterior motive for trying to get me to quit smoking is revealed. Nice try, Jackal, but I'm on to your game," Ban snorts, not quite able to keep the smile from his tone. He presses a kiss to pale skin and draws back some, letting his eyes travel lower, beyond Akabane's waist. "Still enjoying the new addition?"

Lavender eyes sparkle with enchantment. "Very much," Akabane says. "I will treasure it always, Midou-kun."

"I thought you'd like that." Ban nods with self-satisfaction at his ingeniousness. "Let me see it again."

His lover flashes him a coy smile and obligingly starts to undo his jeans. He tugs the hem of his shirt up to his ribcage with one hand and uses the other to lower his opened fly and underwear to the very top of his groin, exposing the right side of a sleek abdomen that bears a single, small decoration: Ban's gift to him on the evening their sojourn to Europe was proposed.

Akabane inhales softly and the fanged serpent on his flesh ripples slightly as it undulates through the spiraling lightning surrounding it. Ban studies the tattoo, pleased with both the simple design and his cleverness in selecting it. If, as the thread-spool put it, everyone is searching for somewhere they belong, Akabane has decided that his place is with Ban, and what better way to prove it than by a marked claim? Since they have their differing ideas as to what constitutes the perfect mark, this compromise was born from a desire to share a unique and deepening bond, its brand inked neatly over the now-vanquished scar from Akabane's brush with appendicitis.

Ban gently traces the line of the snake's body from head to tail with the tips of his fingers. "Figured it was the best way to leave my mark on you without inflicting any actual damage." The serpent is his calling card; the lightning is for Ginji, a nod to Akabane's initial infatuation and subsequent admiration. Ban had noted the location of the tattoo parlour on a prior retrieval job and spent days afterwards browsing the numerous possibilities for something he felt would suit his jackal.

Akabane's eyes twinkle mischievously. "You should have seen the look on Ginji-kun's face when I showed it to him."

Ban snorts with muffled laughter. "I bet!" He dips the point of his tongue into his navel and reaches further into the other's pants, combing his fingers through the thick jet silk of pubic hair and drawing him out.

"Midou-kun..."

"Shut up. You're gettin' a freebie today, Jackal." And with that Ban leans forward and engulfs the rising erection in his mouth.

Akabane sighs and twines his fingers in Ban's hair, hips rocking slowly as the two of them savor this pleasure. Suddenly the interlude is disrupted by the angry buzz of a cell phone on vibration. Ban pulls back for air and glances at the desk.

"Aren't you gonna answer that?"

Akabane smiles and shakes his head. "And let whoever it is interrupt my entertainment? I think not."

"It could be a job."

"I'm already in the middle of one, as you can see. And may I remind you that it's impolite to speak with your mouth full, Midou-kun."

"Doctor's orders, huh? That's my Jackal..." Ban picks up where he left off and soon the room is replete with soft moans. Minutes later Akabane utters a wordless cry and shudders against his lover. Ban cleans them both with his tongue and tucks the other man back into his jeans, doing up the fly and leaving one last kiss as a finishing touch.

Akabane sighs raggedly and sinks into Ban's lap, cleaving to him like a vine curling along a wall. He wraps his arms snugly around Ban's shoulders and draws his head to his chest, holding him almost protectively against his heart. Ban can hear each slightly quickened breath he takes, and feels the reassuring thump of his heartbeat in his ear, as Akabane winds down from his climax.

He closes his eyes and hugs Akabane tightly, reveling in the sensations of warmth, scent, touch, sight, sound, _feeling. _Living. For the first time since meeting Ginji, Ban doesn't feel so alone in the world, and he isn't sure whether to accept or deny the strange quivering in his own heart. It's exciting. It's terrifying. Whatever it is, he hopes that the changes wrought in their lives will spur this unlikely union towards blossoming into what it ought to be – a second chance to ride the current of life into that seventh wave...love...

This time they'll do it together. Like Ban once told Ginji, the 'S' in Get Backers means never undertaking any job alone.

-----


	20. Cold Turkey

Title: Cold Turkey

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #28 – "Wada Calcium CD3 (a calcium pill)"

Rating: PG-13 (swearing, innuendo)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor ones for anime episode 27 which features the appearance of Riko.

Notes: References bits from other chapters in this series, but it's not essential to have read them.

- Many thanks to Abstract Concept for beta help!

Disclaimer: GB is not mine.

Summary: Ban attempts to quit smoking. Key word: ATTEMPTS. Watch out, Akabane...!

--

Dear Blog,

Today's the day. I finally did it. I can't believe I gave in to all that nagging from everybody and smoked my last cigarette. Eh...I guess I can give it a shot, see how this works. If nothing else it'll get Jackal off my back with those stupid health lectures of his. He's all right to have around otherwise but when he tries to play doctor he doesn't do it the fun way, if you know what I mean. I've read all the warning labels, seen the gross pictures. I know what my cigs do to me. Big whoop. Considering all the other shit Ginji and I do on a regular basis, and the fact that I've got a frigging snake renting out my own body, believe me, I'm not worried about a few puffs of smoke. Besides, Aesclepius likes menthol. Plus it makes me cool(er). Because I rule.

Anyway...I said I'd try it, so here goes nothing. Hence the creation of this – diary, I guess you'd call it. Nah, that sounds too girly. No diary. It's a blog. Yeah. Akabane said it would help to chart my progress by keeping daily records. How many days I went without a cigarette and all that stuff. So. Guess this makes Day Number One. So far I feel...okay, aside from a little twinge...that'd be the nicotine fit sulking because I didn't feed it first thing this morning like I usually do. Oh well. Also, I'm a little hungry right now even though I just had lunch an hour ago. That reminds me – Paul made some kickass sandwiches today. I think it's time to go and help a small business owner out by bringing him some fresh clientele, heh heh.

Later –

Ban Midou

--

Operation Smoke-Free Midou-kun

Day 1, 2:21 pm

Patient commenced the first day of his smokeless trial by announcing "this is the fucking dumbest thing I've ever done." (please pardon the excessive profanity; such speech is normal for this particular patient. I expect that future entries will prove to be markedly obscene as nicotine withdrawal sets in.) I assured him that to the contrary, quitting smoking was possibly the best thing he could do for his health and that also, improved health would contribute to more vigorous workout sessions. (I don't think he was very pleased with me after that, judging by the flattening my poor hat took.)

To relieve his need for having something to occupy his mouth (as it is noted that many smokers light cigarettes simply for that habit alone), I gave patient a sliced apple – I even cut it into bunny shapes for him, as that culinary delight went over so well when applied to Ginji-kun once; I thought Midou-kun might also find it interesting but alas, he devoured the pieces without so much as a thank you. Was not amused when patient suggested that I could supply something else in addition to the apple to entertain his mouth and then illustrated his meaning with a rather crude gesture at the lower portion of my body.

Although it was...tempting – if he isn't already as renowned for his talents in bed as he is on the battlefield, Midou-kun ought to be. But I digress. Also, such activity could possibly compromise the doctor-patient relationship and I am if nothing else a professional. Needless to say he got the point (no pun intended) when I turned his suggestion down.

Will continue to update this chart as patient progresses in his efforts.

- K. Akabane, M.D.

--

Yo Blog,

_Fuck. _It's only been two days and already I feel like a sugar-crazed Ginji surrounded by a roomful of Dr. Jackals. Not good. My right arm's getting twitchy, I've noticed – Azzie's probably wondering what the hell's going on too. Crazy snake... Luckily I got this nice big bag of chips to keep me company. And coffee. Sweet, sweet coffee. If I could think of how, and if I thought for an instant that the coffee might appreciate it, I would make hot passionate love to my cup of steaming java. Paul makes hands-down THE best coffee in this damn town. Makes you wonder how come the Honky Tonk doesn't do more business – must just be one of those best-kept secrets of the world.

Akabane came by just now and gave me a pen to play with – he noticed that my fingers were going all spastic like Fudou having one of his psychotic fits (shit, did I just compare myself with that fucktard? Gah, shoot me now). He says it's normal to feel all jittery like this and that substituting other habits in place of my old ones will help break the cycle. Or some psychiatric bullshit like that. I told him he shouldn't quit his day (night?) job as a transporter. Scalpels I can deal with, but if he ever tries coming at me with any hypodermics he's gonna find those gloves of his knotted around his skinny throat. I hate needles. (And it reminds me too much of thread-spool's boyfriend – the other one, with the oak tree up his ass, not the blond bouncer that moons over both of them.)

Grr. Still hungry. And no more chips. Time for a kitchen raid...

- Ban Midou

--

Day 4, 8:29 pm

Patient has been successful thus far in abstaining from cigarettes; however, nicotine withdrawal has set in and patient is now experiencing the first few of what will doubtless be many such fits. Wan-san, who owns the café patient likes to patronize, is understandably concerned about the effects patient's lack of nicotine stimulation is having upon his business. I stressed to him that it would be most inadvisable to indulge in his own nicotine habit when patient is in the immediate vicinity, lest patient be tempted to request cigarettes from him. Since Wan-san is accustomed to patient's frequently rising tab, he agreed that it would be best to heed my advice. Though I have a feeling he was not terribly pleased with it, regardless of the additional health benefits to his own person...

Patient has been advised in turn to avoid socializing at Wan-san's café whenever a certain beast-master is known to be present - it has been noted that Fuyuki Shido-san and Midou-kun do NOT get along well. (Personally I fail to understand the vitriol behind their feud – anyone who counts the feline species among his companions cannot possibly be all that bad. But I digress.) Also checked patient's blood pressure today and it appeared slightly above normal reading, but this is no doubt due to the stress of the withdrawal symptoms patient is currently experiencing. (Patient happened to wander by a moment ago and remarked "no fuckin' shit I'm under stress, I don't have my goddamned cigarettes anymore!") I advised him to take up a hobby in order to distract his mind from the desire for nicotine...

Err...Midou-kun...my neck is not a cigarette substitute...and why are you attempting to remove my clothes...?!

Will save further updates for later – it appears patient requires my immediate attention.

- K. Akabane, M.D.

--

Blog,

This SUCKS. FIVE DAYS without a goddamned cigarette and I feel like climbing the fucking walls with my fingernails! And that goddamn Jackal refuses to let me have even just one little smoke! I threatened to cave in that smug little smile of his with one of my Snakebites, but fist versus scalpels...not a winning combination. Sometimes I hate that freaky sonofabitch.

Ginji, that idiot, is not helping matters any. Oh hell, I know he's just trying to be supportive and all that shit, but dammit, enlisting his old gang buddies as 'help' is a recipe for disaster! For one thing, why the hell would they care if I stopped smoking or not? It's not THEIR lungs that get to bask in a nice cloud of pollution. It's not THEIR skin that feels like it's crawling underneath with thousands of spiders from the fucking withdrawal! And you KNOW that goddamn monkey spazz is just waiting for his chance to torment me with this the first shot he gets! In a masochistic sort of way I'm looking forward to it, because then I'll get to use his sad sack of shit corpse as a punching bag to take out my frustrations on. I'll get you, Monkey-man, and your little dogs too MWAAHAHAHAHA.

And then there's the thread-spool. Yeah. One smart remark from you, pal, and you'll be dancing on the end of your own strings, bodyguard or no.

As for the joker...well, he's not even worth thinking about. Anybody who makes fun of the suffering ex-smokers go through does not deserve to live.

_Fuck. _Speaking of which – think I'll go hunt down Akabane. Screwing him at least gives my fingers something to do.

- Ban Midou

--

Day 6, 5:45 pm

Operation Smoke-Free Midou-kun seems perhaps more than even I, an experienced physician, had bargained for. Today was rather trying, in terms of patience and pressures. (For Midou-kun, that is, not myself) But, as in most everything else, perseverance is critical to success.

For this entry, patient and his significant other (that would be myself, by the way) started the day off on the wrong foot with an argument over, of all things, the proper observance of toast etiquette. Midou-kun said that whoever gets to the toaster first automatically has rights to the food when it emerges. I reminded him that it is more polite to wait until both parties have been served before attempting to hoard all of the toast for oneself. Patient then proceeded to wolf down ALL the available toast and had not even the grace to chew it with his mouth closed – in fact he seemed to take a perverse pleasure in spraying bread crumbs all over the kitchen counter (which yours truly later had to clean up) as he told me in no uncertain terms what I could do with my good manners. (I shall not mention it here, as his diatribe was quite lengthy. Suffice it to say that it was delivered in Midou-kun's typically abrasive and profane terms.)

Complicating matters was the unexpected introduction of other physical urges into the situation. It seems that Midou-kun is a man of many appetites which apparently have become inflamed since he stopped smoking, and the slightest provocation brings about...interesting...results. I regret to admit that when I stumbled into the Honky Tonk several hours later to meet Himiko-san and Maguruma for a job, I was not at my best appearance. They were quite shocked at my disheveled state – hair a rat's nest of tangles, shirt partially unbuttoned and tie undone, trousers half-ripped and hopelessly wrinkled. I explained to them that Midou-kun was trying to quit smoking.

Himiko-san and Maguruma exchanged glances, and somehow I received the impression that they knew more than either was willing to let on. Must remember to ask Himiko-san at a later date about the details of hers and Midou-kun's relationship – perhaps there may be pertinent information that is useful for future notations.

Note to self: must look into possible nicotine replacements as a source of temporary relief for patient. Patches, or gum, perhaps...

- K. Akabane, M.D.

--

Blog,

INEEDAMOTHERFUCKINGCIGARETTERIGHTTHEFUCKNOWGODDAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Or food...Food...FOOD! I'm so HUNGRY! And Paul, that jerk, refuses to serve me any more pizzas till Ginji and I pay up what we owe on our tab. Fucker. Doesn't he realize that business for the Get Backers has been shitty this week? Ginji says it's because I keep hitting up all our clients for smokes. I say it's because people are fucking stingy heartless bastards who wouldn't know what true neediness was if it (snake)bit them in the ass. Assholes.

Speaking of which...time to go find Jackal. At least there's one good thing about this forced nicotine deprivation. Yep, I'm The Man.

- The smokeless yet still Invincible Ban Midou

P.S.: Quit reading this blog, monkey-trainer! You want a fresh one upside your bandana-wrapped head?!

P.P.S.: Yo Akabane, how's about some of that kickass stir-fry of yours for dinner tonight? I'm HUNGRY!

--

Day 8, 1:15 pm

Was rather pleasantly surprised this morning when patient devoured his breakfast – I do pride myself on my skills, after all, and cooking is but one of my many talents – and then proceeded to devour _me_ in turn. Though our dining table isn't really designed for that sort of activity...but I digress.

The afternoon, unfortunately, has not run as smoothly. Patient's good mood evaporated upon discovering that his vehicle – a necessary item for his job as a retrieval specialist – had been towed away sometime during the night for being parked in a non-parking zone. I was concerned that this incident would have a detrimental effect on patient's well-being (as an aside, an interesting thing that I have noticed about Midou-kun and my sometime work partner Maguruma is their overly protective streak for their vehicles), but he again surprised me by returning from the police station in an oddly calm frame of mind. Upon questioning patient revealed that he had dealt with his stress "in a productive manner" and that he had gotten his car back. It seems that the Get Backers do indeed have a unique success rate of retrievals.

My curiosity has just been aroused by a news report I overheard on the television a minute ago, about a downtown police station having sustained serious damage to its offices...no, it couldn't be...?

Oh well. Must close here for now, as I am due to meet with someone about procuring some nicotine supplements. Perhaps they will ease Midou-kun's stress (among other things). Also, must remember to purchase more personal lubricant the next time I pass by the drugstore.

- K. Akabane, M.D.

--

Hey blog,

Is it wrong that I laughed my ass off from making Himiko snort water out her nose today after I referred to her as 'pancake boobs'? Yeah, I know, she's not really that flat (amazing what puberty can do, huh?). But she had it coming after she made that crack to me about being on a shorter leash these days. Girl used to nag me and her brother Yamato all the time about our smoking, for all the fat lot of good that ever did. Marlboros, how I miss thee...

I miss Yamato too, come to think of it. Man, we had some great times, me and him and Himiko (when she wasn't being a brat, which was pretty often – Don't bother commenting here, Himiko, you know it's true and I'll just delete your posts!)... Yamato, if you're out there somewhere and can read this, no offense, but my promise to protect her doesn't extend to letting her trample my dignity, thankyouverymuch.

Anyways, I'm feeling a bit better this evening thanks to 'ol Jackal – he got me these pills that are nicotine supplements. Bought 'em from a salesman who specializes in that kind of thing. They're chewable, even – the flavor leaves a little something to be desired though. But I can tolerate the chalkiness for a while, I guess. Beats ping-ponging off the walls like one of Natsumi's Evil Spheres of Doom. At least it ain't cherry-flavored - that sucks. Whoever invented cherry-flavored anything needs to be shoved into one of the computer boy's virtual reality hells for a couple of hours. I'm supposed to take one to two pills every six hours, but fuck it – I slipped a few extra in here and there to kick the cravings' asses.

Don't give me that look, Jackal. I don't see you wigging out in a nicotine fit! Aren't doctors supposed to treat their patients with a little TLC or something?? I should sue your skinny ass for malpractice...

...better yet, I'll just bend it over the desk here and give you the full special Midou 'treatment', heh heh!

Over and out,

Ban Midou

--

7:24 pm

As I write this patient is dozing after having engaged in repeated physical activity, the nature of which need not be mentioned here. Certain portions of my anatomy are becoming rather uncomfortable, despite my advanced healing abilities. Not that I don't enjoy Midou-kun's...enthusiasm... When I said that he ought to find something to do to distract his mind from the lack of nicotine (current prescription medication excepted), I hadn't expected that he would choose _me_ as his new hobby...I do admit that I find this development quite interesting, however. Even if it is rather tiring, at times...I haven't had much sleep in the last few nights.

More troublesome is patient's complete and total disregard for even the most basic of manners. I had hoped that the nicotine supplements I purchased from the traveling supplier would settle Midou-kun's withdrawal agitations, but if anything he appears to have become more quarrelsome than before. Proof of this was ample in the fight he picked with Himiko-san today and I was forced to step in to prevent her from roasting my patient with her flame scent. There goes another pair of gloves...how fortunate it is that I know an excellent tailor who delivers on short notice.

A note to Himiko-san, if you happen to read this entry. I'm afraid I must agree with Midou-kun on a partial count. That remark about his predicament was uncalled for. However, do please rest assured that I intend to have a word with him about the unnecessary voicing of his opinion of your femininity.

Also, I would ask that you please refrain from using any of your poison perfumes on him for the time being. While I understand that his temperament has been difficult to handle this past week, the situation will only be exacerbated by the introduction of potentially influential additions to his constitution. I do appreciate your kind cooperation in this matter, of course.

Midou-kun, if you read this, I do wish you would follow your medication's proper instructions. Nicotine supplements are meant to be just that, not candy that one gobbles indiscriminately. Perhaps if you were to take up a form of exercise that does not involve the bedroom you might find that your food cravings lessen.

Note to self: Must ask Ginji-kun if he could get Midou-kun a membership to that gym he's always fancied.

Note to self II: Must provide Ginji-kun with finances for said gym membership as both Get Backers are currently lacking in monies. Must also remember to instruct Ginji-kun NOT to allow Midou-kun access to these funds, as I fear their loss to yet another parking fine.

Will update this chart at another time – I hear patient stirring beneath the bedcovers. My, my, he is rather insatiable, isn't he?

- K. Akabane, M.D.

--

Blog-blog-bloggity-blog...

These fucking nic-mints ain't doin' JACK! The bottle is half-empty ever since I got it yesterday and with another one of Hevn's insanely dangerous (but oh-so-highly-paying!!) assignments coming up that's gonna take care of the other half. According to Dr. Jekyll there (yeah, Akabane, that's not a typo, I'm talking about YOU! Deal with it!) the guy he got 'em from says they're the best anti-smoking aid around. I think he needs to make an appointment with the business end of a bloody sword...if you know what I mean!

And another thing. Exercise SUCKS. Don't we get enough of that as retrievers? Having to walk to work is just not the great Ban Midou's style! GRRRRRRRRR...Hevn had BETTER not take so much of our fee this time!! I need that money to free Ladybug from the impound service again, seeing as how my tightwad boyfriend the human Swiss army knife refuses to cut me a loan. Heh – you weren't so tightly-wound last night, were you Jackal?? Hope you don't have any transport jobs scheduled for tonight, 'cause I've got other plans!

I'm not sure which disturbs me more – that I've turned into this raving starved (sex- and otherwise) maniac, or that Medusa's food dish is starting to look good...!

Trying VERY hard not to think about anything that even remotely resembles a cigarette,

The INVINCIBLE Ban Midou (I'll show YOU, ape-boy! I CAN quit anytime I want to!)

--

Day 11, 2:40 pm

Midou-kun has developed a knowing leer and a desire to engage in intimate relations at least several times a day. Ordinarily this might be welcomed, but there is work to consider after all, and it is rather problematic to have to explain to one's co-workers and clients that one was overly tardy in appearing to the job because one was enjoying one's self most thoroughly with one's lover in the shower and the bedroom and the kitchen and...oh dear, this really isn't the place to be reminiscing about such things, is it? Do forgive my momentary lapse in thought. I'm afraid I cannot help it if I find Midou-kun so fascinating.

Is it possible to perish from pleasure? Must ponder this...as soon as Midou-kun lets me leave the bedroom, that is. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was bribing Himiko-san to make him some sort of aphrodisiacal perfume...!

Note to self: Must see about finding a seat cushion to bring along on the next job with Maguruma.

Note to self II: Must contact that salesman again and see about replenishing Midou-kun's nicotine supplement supply. As expensive as those things are, I'm surprised that they aren't doing as well as I had hoped. Hmm. Perhaps I will order twice the usual amount.

Note to self III: Personal lubricant is running low again. Will stop by the drugstore first thing tomorrow morning.

Note to self IV: Must move the cats' food dishes to a more discreet location. I have noticed recently that their kibble seems to be disappearing at an alarming rate, and I'm quite certain that neither Medusa nor Miss Bastet eats _that_ much per daily intake!

- K. Akabane, M.D.

--

ARGH! WHY ME, BLOG?!?

Of all the miseries the Universal Asshole chooses to dump on me (the grandmaster of monkeys being at the higher end of the shit-scale, and the pitchfork-happy fascists chasing my ass over half of Europe being towards the lower), WHY NOW must the unholy spawn of the devil pick this time to invade our (formerly) peaceful abode?!?!?!

Why Akabane insists on taking on this thankless chore is a mystery for the ages. The brat is loudmouthed, rude, arrogant as hell, and greedy to boot. She fucking cleaned me and Ginji out the whole time we were stuck babysitting her spoiled ass through half of Shinjuku! (Okay, calming down now, time for another handful of nic-nibbles. Damn, these things are kinda addictive after a while, even if they taste like fruit-flavored chalk...MORE! They're not working. WORK, DAMMIT!!) But seriously, I gotta have a word with 'ol Jackal after that Riko girl leaves. What the hell is he thinking, offering to be her tutor?? Don't the schools have counselors available for that? Then again, maybe they figure she isn't the brightest candle on the cake and don't want to bother – how smart can their students be if one of 'em goes around asking a notorious underworld figure for his personal contact information?!

(Shut up, Akabane. I am not jealous.)

In happier news, I have my precious, precious car back! (Touch it again, you tow-truck-driving motherfuckers, and I'll rip your goddamn cranes off the chassis and shove 'em where the Shinjuku sun don't shine!!) In not-so-happier news, !$#$!!ING HEVN TOOK A FREAKIN' FORTY PERCENT OF OUR #$#$!#!$!#!!#ING RECOVERY FEE!! (Ginji, take note – it's time to find ourselves a new negotiator! And don't give me that crap about 'how cute' Hevn is when she goes goo-goo all over you, either! You know she's just doing it to sucker us into jobs no one else is dumb enough to take! Hmm, maybe that's why her boobs are so big. She keeps spare brains in there...think if I squeezed hard enough I could make her head explode...?)

Ugh, I hear Her Royal Pain In The Arseness Queen Riko's voice on the answering machine. Kid's got the damn phone superglued to her ear, I swear... An hour late for the tutoring lesson, eh? Good – one more hour of peace for mine longsuffering ears. I see Jackal's taking the adjustment well, but then it's nearly impossible to faze him. Maybe I oughta go give him something to _really_ smile about...

...but first, this blog post is brought to you by the letters F and U and all these shiny happy little nicotine tablets! MORE! GIVE ME MORE!! WORK DAMN YOU PRETTY PILLS!!!!!!!

- Super-Seme-Sama BAN MIDOU!!

--

Day 13, 3:30 pm

Have just seated myself in order to begin the daily journal entry when I find myself being accosted by Midou-kun for our regular 'therapy' session. (Am beginning to regret ever having introduced him to menthol-flavored cigarettes.) Time permitting, I should have ample opportunity to prepare the day's lesson plans for Miss Riko Tachibana-san, a student from one of the local districts whose acquaintance I briefly made during a cancelled transport assignment. As she had requested my phone number and email address, I provided her with this information since she was ever so polite in approaching me; it is most refreshing to find kindly youth amidst the sea of rebellious ruffians these days. It seems she is in need of a tutor, and having had educational experience, I feel I am suitably qualified to aid her in her studies.

(Midou-kun, just one moment, if you please?)

Miss Tachibana-san (or Riko-chan, as the young lady insists I address her thusly) is concerned about the midterm exams scheduled shortly after the next coming week. I have assured her that as long as she continues to put forth the excellent effort she has shown during previous studies, she will no doubt achieve passing marks.

(Midou-kun, please...I promise this won't take much longer...)

Her primary focus is on what she considers to be her weak areas, those of history and the sciences; after having viewed some of the comments left on homework assignments by her teachers I partially agree – her knowledge of historical events could use a bit of brushing-up on, but other than that it is a simple matter of more careful evaluation of scientific formulas and the likes thereof.

On an unrelated note, must remember to refill Midou-kun's pill prescription again. As well as the cats' food dishes – poor Miss Bastet is sitting here by my feet meowing pitifully. Riko-chan quite likes our pets, although Medusa doesn't seem to care very much for company besides myself, Midou-kun and Ginji-kun. I was most surprised one day when Shido-san happened to visit with Ginji-kun and he attempted to greet both cats...Miss Bastet allowed him to pet her, but when Shido-san tried to do the same with Medusa he received a rather nasty scratch on his hand for his efforts. This of course amused Midou-kun to no end, even as I apologized to Shido-san and offered him some antiseptic and a bandage and I'm gonna finish writing this later 'cause I'm gonna go fuck myself senseless with my lover now q439$fbghtw5tr1 Midou-kun!! This is MY journal entry, if you don't mind! How rude...

Where was I? Oh yes, one more thing. Must remember to pick up my dry cleaning tomorrow – my answering service notified me that it was ready. I do so appreciate this business that I use, they are most adept at removing stains and I've never seen whiter whites. It always pleases me to find consistently good service.

(Yes, yes, yes, Midou-kun, I'm coming!)

Edit, 3:51 pm: If Midou-kun continues this habit, _I_ might need a cigarette...!

- K. Akabane, M.D.

--

Day 20, 4:45 pm

I must apologize for my tardiness in updating. I'm afraid quite a lot of excitement has been taking place in the last week and I've scarcely had time to catch my bearings. I shall try to remember as many of these events as I can for documentation purposes...

First order of business is to analyze the net results of Operation Smoke-Free Midou-kun. The experiment, I regret to say, is a complete loss. After nearly three weeks I was forced to admit defeat when, upon returning home from a visit to the market to procure something for dinner (as well as a container of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup for Ginji-kun – I've placed the former inside your freezer, Ginji-kun; I do hope you don't mind my picking the lock to your apartment, but there was no room in ours and I was afraid that the ice cream would melt in your absence) I entered into a significant cloud of distinctly tobacco-scented smoke. Upon questioning Midou-kun presented me with an enormous smile and a lit cigarette and an offer to engage in more explicit 'debriefing.'

Further questioning revealed that Midou-kun had run into Takuma Fudou-san during that day's work, and that the two had had a most thorough confrontation that turned violent (as all their encounters seem to, given each combatant's respective grievances and general dislike of each other, as well as their inherent combative natures). Sadly, I was not there to participate in or witness this spectacle, a fact which truly disappoints me as I am quite certain it must have been an exciting battle – both Fudou-san and Midou-kun are extremely powerful. But I digress.

The fight was concluded when Midou-kun (in his own words) went "berserk" and tore away Fudou-san's eyepatch, eye and all with it, while screaming something to the effect of (and I shall try to phrase it as best I can recall) "holy ten-speed pogo-sticking Christ on a cracker, I can't get one little goddamned stinking cigarette but I can always count on you to ruin my day, you fetishistic vampire-wannabe arm-brooding fuckwit! Sweet mother-of-serpent-eating kittens on a stick, just once I'd like to not have you breathing down my neck every time I turn a fucking street corner!" Understandably concerned that he might lose his other eye as well and therefore be deprived of the scintillating sight of his own blood splashing upon the pavement (and on this count, I must agree with Fudou-san as to the endlessly fascinating artistic properties and possibilities of blood) Fudou-san immediately conceded the fight and was prompt in departing the scene, minus one eye and its accompanying patch. (Ah, but fear not, Fudou-san, I'm quite sure that Kagami-kun can, to use a popular vernacular, hook you up with a new set courtesy of Babylon City.)

I confess now that I am torn between the desire to lecture my patient on the virtues of self-control and the desire to remove a pertinent part of Fudou-san's anatomy from his shoulders to ensure that he no longer troubles my Midou-kun. Unfortunately I fear I have already exceeded my allotted blood quotient for the week, which brings me to my next subject:

I have suspected for some time now that the proprietor who was selling me the nicotine supplements Midou-kun has been taking was rather familiar, though I could not immediately place his name or face upon our initial meeting. Subsequent transactions offered no further clue; however, the feeling of déjà vu persisted, and it was during the events of the past week that I discovered from whence it arose. As I do not wish to get ahead of myself in documenting this saga, I shall hurry on to the portion of the story concerning Riko-chan, for it is thanks to her that the salesclerk's duplicity was revealed. (A note to Riko-chan: Dear, where _are_ your parents while you're navigating the internet??)

On the day of her tutoring lesson Riko-chan arrived an hour late, though she had notified me in advance and thus I was duly prepared. I find it mildly disappointing that Midou-kun and Riko-chan do not seem to get along well in spite of the common interests they share: both are quite intelligent, headstrong and enjoyable to spend time with. But I suppose my expectations exceed beyond the boundaries of reality. Again, I digress.

It has occurred to me that perhaps Riko-chan may be entering the latter phases of her transition to womanhood, for she proceeded to cling to me in a rather audacious manner ill-suited to a lady who has not yet garnered the experience and knowledge to discern her own unique tastes. (Please do not take this as any sort of slight, Riko-chan; you are a perfectly lovely young girl, but I fear I am much too old and boring to be a proper suitor for you, and I highly doubt that your parents would approve of my chosen profession even if it does pay well. With the exceptions of myself and my coworkers Mr. No-Brakes and Lady Poison, I fear that the transportation business is not exactly a bastion of well-mannered and honorable folk.) As this is a regular occurrence whenever we meet for tutoring sessions I take little notice of it (except on those few instances when the adulation strays into improper territory and then I am compelled to gently remind my pupil of correct teacher-student conduct), though I must admit it sent a peculiar if not enjoyable little thrill through me at one point when Midou-kun grabbed me roughly around the waist and said "get your own jackal, kid, this one's mine!" and then proceeded to bend me backwards over his arm as he kissed me most thoroughly in front of a wide-eyed Riko-chan.

(Really, Midou-kun, a simple peck on the cheek would have sufficed in getting your point across. Not that I wasn't enjoying myself, of course.)

Surprisingly, Midou-kun's display of familiar intimacy with me served only to attract more of Riko-chan's attention, as she grilled us both about the nature of our relationship (more than once I had to politely defer her requests for more graphic information, as well as ask Midou-kun to tone down the crudity and volume of his answers). In the course of this heated discussion I calmly suggested that Midou-kun avail himself of his nicotine supplements, believing that one or two dozen might soothe the savage cravings he was most likely experiencing. Midou-kun's response was to slam an empty bottle on the counter and explain to me, in no uncertain terms (which I shall not repeat here as I wish to preserve what remains of Riko-chan's innocence), that the supplements were no longer working and that unless we wanted to learn firsthand what snake fangs really felt like more powerful means of suppressing the desire for nicotine would have to be procured.

This discovery prompted a more lengthy argument during which the following conversation, recorded to the best of my memory, ensued:

Riko-chan: Well, here's your problem. (Picking up the bottle and pointing to the fine print on the label) You've been taking calcium pills, not nicotine supplements!

Midou-kun: (twitchiness threatening to explode into an all-out earthquake) WHAT!

Riko-chan: It says right here. 'Wada Calcium CD3, take as directed for nutritional needs.' Duh! How you guys can be so retarded sometimes is totally beyond me. You must really be some kind of idiot to mistake calcium for nicotine! I mean, jeez, didn't the taste of those things even give you some kind of clue?

Midou-kun: (sputtering, face turning red) Why you insolent little sh - (at this point I interrupted whatever profanity he'd been about to say)

Me: (trying to hold Midou-kun back from attacking Riko-chan) Midou-kun, no! If I'm not allowed to kill people then neither are you!

Midou-kun: (still struggling) This is the exception to that rule, Jackal! Pull that fucking sword of yours outta your ass and give it to me! All's I need is one good swing -

Riko-chan: You're such a klutz. You'd probably trip over your own feet and wind up stabbing yourself if you had a sword!

Midou-kun: (almost free at this point) _SNAKE - _

Me: (desperately trying to hold him back, and not doing very well) Riko-chan, I think now would be a good time for you to leave!

Riko-chan: But the lesson isn't over yet!

Midou-kun: (breaking free) _- BITE!_

Riko-chan: (screaming, running away)

Me: Midou-kun! (I throw a line of scalpels between him and Riko-chan as the latter flees to safety) Kindly refrain from frightening off our guests!

I regret to say that our apartment suffered some minor damage in the chaos that followed immediately thereafter, as I attempted to restrain my enraged lover from committing serious injury to anyone living within a hundred yards (not to worry, Ginji-kun, Riko-chan escaped safely and cats' intelligence being what it is, Medusa and Miss Bastet wisely had retreated long ago to our bedroom to hide). I finally was forced to resort to using my scalpels, pinning Midou-kun in place on the floor with the extracted promise that I would 1) bring him a freshly-lit cigarette to calm his nerves at once, and 2) hunt down and administer a severe chastising to the charlatan responsible for prescribing the placebo pills. And this is where the pertinent portion of my story comes in…

I had scheduled a meeting with the supplier that same morning, so when later that day I went to keep the appointment at the health foods store you may imagine the slight confusion I met with upon discovering that the building was unoccupied. Further investigation of the premises revealed that the employees - one of which happened to be the salesclerk I dealt with - were on a coffee break in the back room. I was about to knock on the door and request that the one man come to speak with me when curiosity stayed my hand, sparked by the men's conversation (again, recalled to the best of memory):

Man 1: Man, Hiro, that was some messed-up story you told me back there about the boss nosebleeding all over the hot mediator chick with the big knockers.

Man 2 (heretofore referred to as Salesman): Are you kidding me, Kase? Wait'll I tell you about the time I caught these two guys going at it on one of the display pieces from my last job.

Man 1: Are you shitting me? For real, man?

Salesman: Yeah. Two guys, humping away right in front of my face.

Man 1: (laughing) I gotta hear this.

Salesman: I was doing some part-time stuff for this furniture place downtown, and I usually had to open the showrooms in the mornings. Well, it was quiet that day and these two guys must've snuck upstairs somehow and decided to have a little romantic rendezvous on one of the beds, because when I walked in I could hear these panting noises, heavy breathing, you know? And at first I thought it was a couple of kids, teenagers playing a joke…

Man 1: Yeah. Like that bunch we chased out last weekend…

Salesman: …but when I flicked on the light I could see this makeshift curtain of sheets set up around one bed, and there was movement behind it, and when I went up to it and yanked back those drapes -

Man 1: (laughing) Talk about a mood-killer!

Salesman: - it was these two bare-assed guys bouncing away. Well, for a moment I thought it was a guy and a girl, because the one had this long dark hair, real pretty, and kinda curvy in the hips. But then the one guy with the glasses saw me, and he freaked, started screaming all sorts of stuff at me about snakes or something, and when he moved his boyfriend did too and I could definitely tell that was a guy. (coughs awkwardly)

Man 1: Holy shit. (laughs)

Salesman: It gets better. Snake-guy looks like he's ready to beat the crap outta me, but his pretty boyfriend holds him back and talks to him in this real sweet, soft voice, all nice, and somehow he manages to calm him down while they're getting dressed. Then the pretty one smiles at me and cool as a cucumber explains to me how they were browsing for furniture for their new apartment and they just wanted to test the durability of the bed they were planning on buying.

Man 1: (laughing harder) And you bought that lame excuse?

Salesman: (laughing) Man, you'd be surprised at what some people told me when I caught them doing shit on the floor.

Man 1: Aw, man. So, what'd you do about it?

Salesman: What else could I do? They both looked like they could kick my ass. Snakeman was glaring all sorts of nasty at me and his right arm was doing this twitching thing like he wanted to choke somebody. His boyfriend was a lot calmer but…there was just something about him, a kind of 'screw with me and die' vibe I was picking up, you know? And he had this freaky-looking hat - big damn thing, all black, covered most of his face when he put it on. So I didn't argue with either of 'em. I just said that people weren't allowed up on the second floor without an employee present.

Man 1: What'd they say when you told them that?

Salesman: Not much. The skinny one - eh, they were both on the lean side, but the one with the hat, he was thinner - did most of the talking while his boyfriend just stood around looking grouchy. I think they were about to round third base when I showed up, you know? (Laughter from both) I showed 'em some more pieces and they did end up picking a couple of nice things. Expensive tastes, too.

Man 1: (still laughing) Did they buy that bed too?

Salesman: Yeah.

Man 1: Oh man. Oh, that's classic. That's awesome.

Salesman: Gave me a nice commission out of it, heh.

Man 1: I swear, you have the funniest stories from that job. Why'd you quit, was it 'cause of people doing stuff like that?

Salesman: Sort of. Actually, the thing that made me quit was when Black Hat started taking off all the tags on the stuff they'd bought. You know, those labels that say 'do not remove under penalty of law'?

Man 1: What's so bad about that?

Salesman: He was doing it with a knife.

Man 1: You mean like a utility blade?

Salesman: No, a knife. A _knife _knife. Like one of those medical kinds surgeons use. Guy just whipped it out of nowhere and set to work with a big smile. And he was so nice about it too, that's the freaky part. Politest customer I ever met.

Man 1: (low whistle) Damn! Where'd he get something like that?

Salesman: Beats me, but I figured by the looks of him he was some kind of yakuza type. He had a bunch of scars and this weird tattoo on one arm that looked like a gang symbol. After they left, I handed the boss my two-week notice. Said I didn't need to be dealing with underworld goons. For all the good that did me…

Man 1: What do you mean?

Salesman: Couple weeks ago I bump into the same damn guy while making my rounds. I guess him and his boyfriend are still together, because Black Hat mentioned that he was trying to get him to quit smoking and wanted to know if there were any nicotine supplements I'd recommend. He didn't seem to recognize me, but I sure remembered him. Hard to forget that smile and that hat.

Man 1: Holy crap! I'da taken off running…

Salesman: I wish I had. He keeps coming back wanting to buy more of those stupid wada CD3 pills.

Man 1: I didn't know calcium supplements could help people stop smoking.

Salesman: They can't.

Man 1: Then how come -

Salesman: Had to say something to get people to buy 'em. The warehouse screwed up, sent me several thousand cases of these damn things, and I can't send the shipment back because it'll cost too much on the return freight charge. So I either sell them or take a loss. And believe me, if I do the latter the boss'll have my head on a stick.

Man 1: So you're passing them off as anti-smoking pills?

Salesman: Nicotine supplements, weight-loss aids, energy boosters, you name it. Most people don't bother reading the labels anyway, so it's been working so far.

Man 1: Creative thinking. Not bad, Hiro. But what'll you do if someone does figure it out?

Salesman: Three words, my friend: non-refundable policy.

Man 1: Ahh.

Salesman: The store can't be held liable for the consumer's failure to read the instructions, after all. (chuckles)

At this point I must confess I was feeling rather irked by the discovery that I had been purposely deceived, a fact that was soon made clear when I happened to look down and saw my hands bristling with several reddened scalpels. Concerned that an overly harsh reaction would cause me to fail in achieving my intended goals, I took several minutes to think upon how best to rectify the situation, and then knocked on the door before entering. My goodness, I thought that few people could match Midou-kun and myself in speed! It's been a long time since I've seen any other human move that quickly… At any rate, I promptly made my case to the salesman and his partner and politely but firmly requested a full refund of payment tendered for the false pills I had purchased. The right approach is key to fixing the problem, after all.

I had anticipated something of a reluctance to concede on the store's part, but fortunately the misunderstanding was hastily cleared up, and I received not only my refund but a free set of lovely Ginsu knives, as well as a lifetime discount card for any future purchases I might wish to make. The salesman was also kind enough to throw in, _gratis,_ several boxes of true nicotine supplements upon learning from me that Midou-kun had not achieved any success with the placebos. He even offered me a handful of cash from his own wallet as reimbursement for the damages my patient/lover inflicted upon our apartment during his withdrawal-induced tantrums. I assured the salesman, however, that such recourse was appreciated but unnecessary, as we are insured and I would have hated for him to have gone without lunch for the rest of the month. My, my, it truly is amazing what one will do for one's customers when one has the proper motivation… Naturally as a parting gesture of goodwill, I gave them the address of the dry cleaning service that I use, as I'm quite certain that those stains on both salesclerks' suits will be difficult to remove without trained expertise.

Ah, goodness, but it is late! How time flies when one is having fun…

I shall close this journal entry with a note for Midou-kun: I'm so proud of you for having tried to quit smoking, my darling. I know that these last few weeks have been rough on you, and I promise to make it up to you soon. At least you may take comfort in knowing that the temporary nicotine deprivation did your health some good, and that the sales of calcium pills have dramatically dropped. This also means that the money you saved from not buying cigarettes can go towards our trip to Europe, which I confess I'm growing more excited about as the days pass.

Now be a dear and turn down the bedsheets, won't you, please? It's MY turn to be on top tonight!

- K. Akabane, M.D.

-----


	21. Hallow's Eve

Title: Hallow's Eve  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #10 – "#10 (the number ten)"

Rating: PG-13 (minor adult content/themes)

Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for the Voodoo Child curse and basically most of Ban's/Himiko's/Yamato's histories, also canonical mentions of Akabane and Semimaru's pasts.

Notes:

- Implied past Semimaru/Akabane.

The song Akabane sings in this, "The Book Of My Life", is written by and belongs to Sting, and I do not own or profit from it. All haikus quoted therein are the properties of their respective authors (i.e., not me) and are used only for fun. See footnotes at the end.

Many thanks to those of you who patiently awaited the next installment of this series. RL has been Rather Unpleasant for me lately, so it's been hard trying to finish this one.

I am in the process of setting up fanfic journals so that I can archive the stories elsewhere as well, since my regular website is currently inaccessible by me for updates. Also, my apologies if this appears rather disorderly - for some reason I've noticed that fanfiction dot net tends to mess up my submissions when I attempt to upload them using MS Word (which is why I prefer the HTML method, even though that gets buggered worse than Word, but that's another story...)

Disclaimer: GB is not mine. Sting is not mine. The haiku are not mine. Hell, even the chair I'm sitting on isn't mine. All fannish works are done purely for fun and the love of the game.  
Summary: On the eve of an anniversary Ban and Akabane revisit old ghosts as they look ahead to future ones.

--

"What the hell are you wearing?"

Akabane gives Ban a puzzled look. He's just come from the bathroom, fresh from a shower, and now he's combing out his long hair. "What?"

Ban is steaming. He gives the other man a pointed glare. "You _know_ what."

Akabane gives a light laugh. "No, I don't know what. Perhaps you'd like to enlighten me as to why you're giving me a look you normally reserve for tow trucks?"

He walks over to the dresser, smelling of soap and humidity. Ban's view traces the thin silhouette he poses in the light as he watches Akabane finish combing his damp hair with one hand and scroll through the messages on his cell phone with the other. When he completes these tasks he lays the comb on the dresser and turns around, and Ban is still glaring at him.

"What?"

"The _shirt,_ Jackal," Ban growls.

Confusion draws Akabane's slender brows into a crease. "What shirt?"

Ban resists the urge to slam his fist into the wall next to him. "The one you've got on!"

Akabane looks at himself, then back at Ban. "What about it?"

Ban silently counts to ten before responding, cold anger written along the sharp edges of his face and the twitching muscles of his frame. "Where'd you get it?"

"It was hanging on the doorknob of the bathroom." Akabane shrugs. "I needed a clean shirt. Midou-kun, I don't understand why you're so upset. It's just a shirt."

It is and it isn't, Ban thinks. Akabane doesn't look any different than from how he normally dresses when he's getting ready to go to bed – he's wearing a pair of black silk pajama pants and the offending shirt, which is a tank top and olive green and most importantly – _Ban's._ Such blatant pilferage of his wardrobe ratchets Ban's restlessness up another notch into full aggravation, chiefly because it reminds him of two people he's had more than a passing acquaintance with.

_Wear open shirts, Ban. It drives the ladies wild when they see that chest,_ Yamato had told him. He'd loaned Ban some of his clothes early on when their little 'family' had first formed and he'd discovered that Ban was poorer than dirt. Later, a mischievous Himiko had taken to snatching the white sleeved ones Ban had gotten as gifts from her brother and wearing them around whatever home they'd been staying in at the time. It was Yamato who taught Ban a sense of style, how to dress to impress, and the lessons had stuck.

The resurgence of these bittersweet memories makes something twist almost painfully inside Ban's chest and he covers the soreness by snapping at Akabane again. "It's _my_ shirt." Jackal ought to know by now how territorial Ban is about his possessions anyway.

Akabane smiles serenely. "Yes, I gathered that. What I don't understand is why you're so upset about me wearing it. I told you, I needed a clean shirt."

"Why couldn't you have just used one of your own?"

Akabane shrugs again. "This one was readily available. Oh, don't give me that look," he chides semi-affectionately. "You steal my bedcovers all the time. I'm just returning the favor."

"That's different. Those were mine to begin with and if I didn't have to get them back all the time because you insist on cocooning yourself in them like some kind of goddamn caterpillar it wouldn't even be an issue in the first place. This is _my shirt_ we're talking about here, so take it off and go find another one."

Akabane frowns faintly as he comes to sit on the edge of the bed near Ban's feet. "Midou-kun, is there some reason you are being purposely antagonistic tonight? You're making an awful lot of fuss over something so simple…"

If only it _were_ that simple, Ban thinks. But he's feeling on edge tonight, still bruising from past wounds, and that emotional trigger is not what he wants to spend dwelling on. "Look, you don't like it when I mess with your clothes, so lay off mine, will you? Take it off. Now."

Akabane's brows draw into a stern line and his jaw hardens in an instantly recognizable stubbornness. "No."

"Jackal – "

"Midou-kun, you need to settle down."

That's it. Nobody tells him to behave like he's some snot-nosed brat. "Settle this!" Ban snarls, and lunges at him.

His charge only gets so far before it's stopped in mid-strike. One pale hand clamps down on Ban's primary fist and the other forces his second punch to back off before it's skewered on the scalpels emerging from between Akabane's fingers. "That's enough," the transporter says, his calm politeness reinforced by steel both figurative and literal.

For just a second Ban is tempted to escalate the feud into an all-out fight, thinking that maybe a round or two of roughhousing is just what he needs to distract his mind, but deep down he knows that it will only make things worse – the sparring sessions he and Jackal have are never done in such a half-assed fashion, both for safety's sake and because neither man's pride would permit him to engage without full attention given to the art. And a part of Ban, a very secretive part of him, is reluctant to take out his frustration and his anger on someone that he really does care about. Getting to know Akabane Kuroudo hasn't been easy, but it's been worth a lot of the trouble and time he's invested in it.

Not only that, but Ban is loath to admit the real reason behind his irritability and endure the potentially cutting pity. This is his cross alone to bear; he knew that a long time ago and accepted his fate for what it was. Not even Ginji knows about it, and they're about as close as two best friends can get without being joined at the hip.

So, instead of retreating, instead of attempting another attack and planting a knuckle sandwich smack on his lover's unsmiling lips, Ban shakes him off and gets up. "Fine. Keep the fucking shirt. Use it for tissue paper for all I care." And with that he stalks out of the bedroom, grabbing his cigarettes and lighter off the dresser as he goes.

He enjoys about a half-hour of uninterrupted smoke-filled peace before Akabane appears alongside him on the balcony. He's wrapped in his robe now, and he's holding Ban's as well. "It gets quite chilly during nights now, Midou-kun. At least bundle up if you're going to sulk outside."

Ban stares out at the city lights from where he's perched on the ledge, refusing to acknowledge the other man's presence. Silently he wills Akabane's sense of politeness into obeying a mental order for him to go away and leave Ban the fuck alone.

Akabane, however, is persistent to the end when he decides he wants something. He comes closer, calmly disregarding the hostile aura around his lover and carefully drapes the robe around him, his voice gentle as always. "I won't have you catching cold, Midou-kun. Even if you are so reckless about your health."

_You're such a reckless idiot, Ban! Why can't you listen to others for a change?!_

Himiko's face swims in his mind's eye – a memory from a time when they'd botched a job because of something he'd done and she'd chewed him out royally for it. Yamato had bitched them both out, saying that they could each do with a little more maturity. Later that same evening they'd brushed the incident aside over hot takeout and cold beer (fruit punch for Himiko, a fact which annoyed her to no end as she insisted she was mature enough to drink alcohol), and Ban had asked Yamato how he could so casually dismiss what had happened.

_Fuck-ups are fuck-ups, Ban,_ Yamato had replied, affectionately cuffing him about the head. _Mistakes will always come and go, but you'll only ever have one family. We'll get 'er next time, kid, don't worry._

_Christ, Yamato. I'd give my life a thousand times over just to hear you rip into me like that again and ten minutes later laugh and tell me it'll be all right._

Ban swiftly blinks away the sting of wet heat threatening to blossom in his eyes, and shivers.

"If you come inside where it's nicer, I'll make you some hot cocoa and you can tell me why you're suddenly not speaking to me," Akabane tries to entice him.

Ban crunches the remains of his cigarette between his fingers and flicks the used butt over the edge of the balcony. He yanks a fresh one from the crumpled box in his hand and fishes in his jeans pocket for his lighter. "You just don't know when to quit, do you?" he mutters coldly, touching the flame to the tip of the cigarette before jamming it in between his lips.

Akabane smiles.

Ban looks out on the night again. This is _his _private pain, dammit. Why can't people just leave it alone?

Movement in the corner of his eye draws his attention. Ban looks, but Akabane has vanished in a flurry of black silk. He looks back to the stars and feels something warm, soft but with the strength of a born predator underlying, enveloping him from behind.

"We'll be warmer if we sit together like this," Akabane breathes into Ban's ear, wrapping his arms around him and twining their legs as he fits himself spoon-style against his lover.

"Maybe. And maybe I'll toss you off this ledge if you don't cut out the bullshit," Ban growls.

He can practically feel Akabane's smile against the back of his neck. "Ah, but if you do that, I'll take you with me, and then neither of us will have any fun." Pale arms tighten subtly around his chest, and a cool moisture slides along his cheek as Akabane rests his chin on Ban's shoulder, his damp hair fragrant with the pleasant scent of conditioner.

Scent. Himiko's calling card. Every time Ban encounters an unusual smell – chemicals, spices, things such – he automatically thinks of her. She'd be able to identify it in a heartbeat, with her skill at detecting and sorting fragrances. She has to, in her profession. Her weapons – her perfumes – are her strongest asset, and the ability to wield them effectively in a fight is every bit as important as knowing how to mix their dangerous recipes to the precise measurements. Truly the talent of a witch of poisons…

Akabane's hand curves lightly over the top of Ban's. Ban's fingers are fidgeting with the top of his lighter, flicking it open and shut, open and shut, in a slow repetitive clinking. "It's not just about the shirt, is it, Midou-kun?"

He shouldn't bother answering, should just keep his fat mouth shut and go on pretending he's ignoring Jackal so as to bore him that much sooner. Then he'd go away and leave Ban to his misery. Despite himself Ban hears words pass through his lips. "Whatever gave you that brilliant idea?"

Taking no offense at the sarcasm Akabane nuzzles his cheek. "You have the stale scent of old blood on your mind tonight."

He isn't saying that to be a creepy smartass. The other man is uncannily perceptive at times, Ban knows.

He inhales another drag and blows forth a wisp of smoke, watching it spiral effortlessly and thin out into nothingness. "I hate the fucking change of seasons. Autumn, everything turning brown, shit decaying…"

A soft chuckle stirs the fine hairs on his skin. "My, this is different. Usually I'm the one waxing poetic about death."

"Heh."

They sit in silence for several minutes, Ban smoking, Akabane idly caressing his hand. Ban hates to admit it, but it _has_ gotten cool out here in the night air and having his jackal pressed up against him like a living blanket is rather…comforting. Sleeping with Akabane is like going to bed with a hot-water bottle, enjoyable warmth all around. Some of his anger dissolves into a brooding mist, and he leans back just a little into his lover's chest.

As if sensing his thoughts, the other man pauses in his touch and murmurs, "Would you like to come to bed now?" The offer is made innocently enough, without a trace of sex in it, but sex usually winds up being part and parcel of the deal anyway, just because they can't keep their hands off each other.

Nonetheless, Ban declines. "Not yet."

Akabane kisses his cheek and resumes stroking his hand.

Ban's eyes fall to their fingers, what he's holding in his own. Click, clink. Click, clink. He remembers clearly when he'd started smoking, seriously that is. Prior to his full induction into the nicotine lovers' club he'd attempted a few hits here and there from his days on the streets, if only to embellish his 'tough' image around some of the older kids. He had been ten years old when he'd had his first cigarette.

Yamato had been a regular smoker. His favorite brands varied, but he usually stuck to the full flavors. Menthols when his preference was unavailable. Himiko had never cared for the habit, complaining that he was going to get lung cancer and die before he was thirty, but Yamato had teasingly ruffled her hair and laughed, _kiddo, if this doesn't get me, something else will, so I'm gonna enjoy what I've got._

As it turned out, something else _had_ gotten him before he turned thirty.

Ban studies the lighter. Its silver is still polished – he takes care to keep it that way, it's the least he can do for the man who taught him how to light up in style. His eyes glaze over at the memory of Yamato catching Ban watching him one day. He'd offered the boy his lit cigarette with a wink and a jaunty _Want one, Ban? Nah, you're not old enough to know how, I bet. _

_I know how to smoke, asshole!_ And Ban had grabbed the little stick from him and proceeded to gulp down a huge cloud of smoke, which he'd promptly gagged on and nearly vomited up in a fit of red-faced spluttering.

Yamato had laughed, but not unkindly. _Here,_ he'd said, _let me show you how to do it right._ They'd practiced it all afternoon until Ban got good at inhaling without choking. Soon he was making smoke rings and spirals like Yamato did. In the summer they'd sit outside sometimes after a job was done, sharing a companionable pack of cigs and bullshitting each other about the crazy and stupid things each of them did or said.

The day Ban had turned sixteen Yamato had taken him aside after a job and plopped a small metallic weight in his hand. _I forgot to get you a present since we had to work today, so here's a consolation gift,_ he'd grinned.

Ban had looked at what Yamato had given him and was startled. Yamato had saved for ages to buy this lighter, an expensive custom job that he'd had his initials stenciled on. Next to his car, it was his sole favorite possession. Ban knew this because he'd once seen Yamato go apeshit looking for it when he'd thought he'd lost it once on a job. The guards they'd encountered had borne the brunt of his temper, and had wisely allowed them to escape unhindered.

Nearly a year after that, Yamato was dead, Himiko hated him, and Ban was out on the streets again. Happy birthday, indeed.

Warm hands fold over his with the lighter in it. Ban looks at the starburst of scar decorating the pale skin and wonders if Akabane has ever known such a loss. Ginji had once told him that during an ongoing fight with the head of the seven elders from the Kiryuudo he'd sensed a peculiar aura coming from the transporter, something what felt to him like "raw flesh scraped into hide." Not a pretty picture, to be sure, but Ban knows exactly what that feels like because that's how he felt when he'd had to do what he did, how he still feels every time the anniversary rolls around.

His anger has long since cooled now, and maybe it's just the difference of having someone close enough to confide in, or maybe he's just trying to articulate his own conflicted thoughts, but whatever the reason Ban finds himself speaking at last. "Hey, Jackal."

"Mm?" Akabane stirs, lifting his head slightly from its place on Ban's shoulder.

"You know how…I once told you I had to kill somebody?"

"Mm-hmm."

"This weekend is the anniversary of his death."

"Ohhh," Akabane says softly in understanding. He strokes Ban's hair. "You must miss him very much, then."

The tears suddenly well up again and Ban shuts his eyes, forcing them back. When he's sure he can talk without cracking, he says quietly, "Yeah."

"Tell me about him? Unless it pains you to speak of it. I understand if that's the case, Midou-kun."

Ban shrugs. "Not much to tell. I fell in with him and his younger sister some years back. They were running a small-time thievery operation. Just little things, nothing big although we did those too, once in a while, if the money was good and the risk was worth it. Yamato taught me a lot of stuff."

"Yamato. Was that his name?"

"Yeah."

"Why did you have to kill him?"

_Ban…I can't hold out any longer. You have to do it, now, before the curse completes itself._

_Jesus, God, no, Yamato! There has to be another way!_

_Ban! Please…_

Ban inhales a small shuddering breath. Unconsciously his right hand clenches around the lighter. "He…asked…me to."

"And you didn't want to."

"Nah, I wanted to, I hadn't racked up my body count for the day. Of course I didn't want to do it! Shit. Jackal…" Ban inwardly curses himself for that higher-sounding note straining his voice, and for the stinging heat that keeps building in his eyes. Goddammit, of all the times to have to start bawling like a baby… "Yamato…he was – he was like…he was _family_ to me. A brother. A father." More of one than his actual sire, Ban thinks. He still doesn't quite know what to make of Kaiser, as the man called himself. He caused a shitload of trouble as Beltline ruler, but he did actually say to his son once that he was proud of him. That's more than Ban could ever say for his mother…

"Why do you blame yourself so, Midou-kun? You fulfilled his request. It's what any professional would have done."

Akabane is only asking out of curiosity and there's no malice, no taunt in his tone. Yet Ban suddenly wants to smash his fist into the other's face, a white-hot spike of rage rushing through his blood that wants to make his lover hurt, wants him to _feel_ what Ban feels. As if Yamato had _wanted_ to die, wanted to leave Ban and Himiko alone to face the aftermath!

He roughly shoves Akabane away from him and gets up, pacing the balcony with a grim snarl. "It shouldn't have been necessary at all, goddammit!" In a lesser tone, he hisses, "I _told_ him to let me help, that we could find the way together…"

Akabane remains calm in the face of his lover's fury, but then it's hard to faze him. He swings his legs down from the ledge and stands up, folding his arms over his chest. "But he wouldn't let you," he guesses correctly. "Perhaps he felt he was protecting you. You still mustn't blame yourself for his death. He chose as he thought was best. Did he not have the free will to do so?"

Ban stops pacing and rakes a hand through his hair as he stares at Akabane. His stub of a cigarette has finally extinguished, and he pitches it to the side and contemplates lighting up another as he glances at the lighter again, then back at the jackal. A part of him understands the practical wisdom his lover is trying to be helpful in offering; the wounded half just doesn't want to hear it right now. Ban gives him a hard glare. "So what if he had the choice? It still doesn't excuse the truth of the matter."

Akabane's gaze is steady, placid purple meeting thunderous blue. "Only if you refuse to let the past be past. You torture yourself needlessly with it in the present and therefore are unable to find any enjoyment from either."

Ban fairly sneers at him. "Isn't that _my_ choice, then?"

"True." Akabane comes to stand behind him again, aligning their bodies together as he wraps his arms around Ban. His hands lace in a loose clasp at his lover's abdomen and he rests his head on his shoulder, lips caressing Ban's ear as he speaks in a near-whisper.

"But if you persist in this useless martyr's penitence, then Himiko-san may lose the choice to decide _her_ future."

The words stab Ban to the core, and not just because deep down inside, he knows that Akabane is right. He pulls away in astonishment and turns around.

Akabane is surprisingly solemn. "There are those who still speak in Babylon, even if only in allusion to it, for they fear repercussion from the ones interested in the Last Children who bear the Voodoo lineage. I was aware that Himiko-san was mourning the loss of an older brother. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together."

Ban is still gaping at him, stunned by the extent of the other man's knowledge of the Voodoo curse. It's a vivid reminder that Akabane Kuroudo is himself a man of many secrets, some of which Ban's not entirely sure he wants to learn about.

_Ban…in case anything happens to me… _

_I promised Yamato I would protect her. God help me if I fail a second time._

"Does she know, Midou-kun?"

The silence hangs heavy between them like a lead weight. It could almost flatten them, Ban thinks. "No."

"Are you going to tell her?"

Ban hesitates. "When the time is right," he hedges.

Akabane's brow raises only just a little. "Do you think that's wise, waiting?"

"She can't handle that information at her age. She's just a kid."

"Maybe you ought to let her be the judge of that. Himiko-san is more resilient than you think."

_Himiko, what the hell d'you think you're doing? You're just a brat, they'll eat you for breakfast._

_Don't treat me like a little kid, Ban! I can do it on my own!_

Akabane comes closer, taking Ban into his arms. "Midou-kun…have you ever considered that perhaps you are doing Himiko-san a grave disservice by _not_ telling her? What if this curse activates prematurely? What if it happens when she is alone and has no one to aid her?"

Those thoughts and more have indeed crossed Ban's mind. But he feels just as powerless and helpless to intervene, and he's reasoned that it's better the devil one does know instead of the unknown. "According to Yamato, it's not supposed to hit till she turns seventeen. There's still time."

Akabane frowns faintly. "Time flies fastest when one least expects it to, Midou-kun. It would be better spent in preparation than denial. Surely you would agree with such wisdom."

Damn it. No, he can't argue with that, Ban realizes. But a part of him still balks at revealing to Himiko the truth of her own cursed heritage. Hang around a warlock long enough and just maybe some of his less-than-appealing traits might start to rub off…

He can live with her hating him. He's lived with it ever since the day he took Yamato's life. What Ban can't bear is the thought of her following in her brother's footsteps, should the Voodoo Child return for its pound of flesh.

A pale scarred hand reaches up to touch his face, cup his jaw. "Be like Ginji-kun, Midou-kun. Have a little more faith in Himiko-san. She is much stronger and smarter than you sometimes give her credit for. I of all people ought to know her capabilities," Akabane says gently, a reminder of the transporters' unusual partnership. "Trust me when I say that she will be far angrier with you for having denied her this information than by the actual curse itself. Compared with risking her life in ignorance…don't you think this is the better gamble?"

Anger…He can deal with that. Himiko will yell and scream and curse at him, call him all sorts of vile and vicious names in language unfit for a girl of sixteen. And she'll be justified in it, of course, because Ban would have done the exact same thing to anybody who kept him in the dark about events affecting his life. And just maybe after enough time has passed and her temper has cooled, she'll grow to…tolerate him again, and they can regain a semblance of what they had when it was still just the three of them taking on the world together – Yamato, Himiko, and Ban…

"I'll think about it," he eventually concedes.

Akabane smiles. "I know." He kisses Ban chastely on the lips. "Now will you come to bed? It's cold there without you."

"Why? You'll just steal my covers again like you always do."

That smile deepens and takes on a hint of sly amusement. "And then you will be forced to attach yourself on top of me in search of body heat."

"Heh. Should've known you had ulterior motives," Ban grunts as he lets Akabane lead him back inside the apartment.

"I never claimed to be a saint, Midou-kun."

Inside the bedroom they slip beneath the blankets after shedding their respective robes and curl against each other. Ban's still somewhat tense, and Akabane starts to dig elegant long fingers into his muscles. "Let me?" he murmurs.

Ban feels emotionally if not physically drained. Anger – persistent anger – takes a lot of energy. So does regret. But in the reminders of the Child's imminent return, he needs…something. Needs that reassurance, to know that he's got viable options other than the ones he's loath to resort to, and Akabane is willing to provide that relief from his nightmares, however temporary a solution it is. He lifts his face and kisses his lover in silent acceptance.

Akabane works with exquisite care, kissing back tenderly while he undresses them both, and lies atop Ban. Slender hips undulate lightly against him; scarred hands bracket Ban's face while Ban's hands grasp a marked shoulder in one and a firm buttock in the other. They move together like this for a minute or two, an unhurried rustle of pleasurable friction, and then the jackal shifts his hand, wrapping it around both of their erections and pumping steadily as they both reach for a satisfying release.

Ban groans, and moments later wet heat spurts between their bellies as he comes first, followed shortly thereafter by Akabane who utters a mute whimper amidst his shaky panting. They hold each other for a while, coasting into a sated doze before Akabane stirs and rises from the bed. Ban vaguely hears the sound of running water in the bathroom.

He sighs quietly in the darkness, fuzzy mind registering the slow caress of a warm, wet cloth being passed over his abdomen and groin as his lover cleans them both up. Then the dampness is gone and replaced with another warmth, a more solid one that winds itself around him as he rolls over and encourages his head to pillow itself on a pale chest.

"Sleep now, Midou-kun."

And Ban does.

--

The noonday sun beads a pretty lance of light over the top of the Ladybug. Ginji notices that the route they're taking isn't leading directly back to the Honky Tonk. "Ban-chan, where're we going?"

Ban is silent at first. Then he says, "I gotta stop and see somebody about a job."

"All right! You have something lined up for the Get Backers?"

There's a pause. Ban doesn't take his eyes from the road he's navigating. "You could say that," he mumbles after a while.

Ginji looks pleased. "It's been a good week for us, huh Ban-chan? Jobs coming in and for once we've got money! Has the client for this one told you anything yet?"

"I know everything I need to know," Ban answers cryptically. "This is just to finalize the details."

Some time later when he pulls up into the cemetery Ginji shows little sign of surprise. It's not uncommon for them to meet clients in the oddest of places. Ban parks the car and motions to Ginji to stay put. "This might take awhile, so you wait here. The client is sorta out of this world, and it's best if I'm the one to speak with him. There are a few words that need to be said."

Puzzled as to this turn of events but trusting that they'll be explained eventually, Ginji nods.

Ban exits the car and starts walking up a small hill.

He follows this path into a clearing where tombstones lie in spaced rows of ten, each one a silent testament to its owner's presence on this earth. Ahead is a large tree, its vibrantly green limbs spread broadly out to receive the light as it shelters one marker in particular.

_Don't cry for me when I'm gone, Ban. Tears are wasted on the dead – it's the living they need to be shed for._

Ban thinks of all the times when he wished he could have given both tears and blood for dead and living alike. Somehow that won't be a problem in regards to the former today, he decides.

As for the latter…that will come soon enough.

He approaches the headstone he's singled out, and he does say a few words.

"Yamato, you cagey bastard…you never told me that growing up was so goddamned hard to do…"

--

Ginji yawns and stretches in his seat. It's been a while since Ban left to meet with their client, and he's growing bored. Deciding that a little exercise is in order to relieve the ennui he gets out of the car and begins wandering up the nearest hill.

He spots a large tree at the other end of the clearing and perks up. Trees are great for swinging and climbing on, despite the fact that Ban complains about Ginji looking like "one of that damn monkey-trainer's apes" when he catches him doing something like that. Then he realizes what else is under the tree, and concern draws his expression into a worried frown.

Ban is alone, and it looks like he's been hurt. He's hunched over one of the tombstones, making choking noises.

Ginji's immediate instinct is to run to his side, but before he gets two steps a shadow falls across his path.

"AAAKA – " A gloved hand clamps down over his mouth before he finishes his scream.

"It's all right, Ginji-kun. Midou-kun is unharmed."

Ginji swats away the hand over his mouth and jumps back, glaring. "Do you _have_ to sneak up on people all the time, Akabane-san?" he hisses, twitching like a jittery feline.

Akabane smiles, perhaps a bit sadly. He glances to where Ban is still kneeling in front of the grave. "Midou-kun asked me to meet him here when he was done. He's to drop me off someplace for a meeting of my own."

"Oh."

A sound draws their attention towards the tree. Ban has fallen forward with bowed head now and is shaking, fists clenched in the grass and dirt. Ginji moves, but Akabane blocks his way. He puts a finger to the blond's lips and shakes his head, indicating quiet.

"Midou-kun needs to be by himself for a little bit."

"But – "

Akabane loops his arm around Ginji's and gently but firmly tows him away from the scene. "Come, Ginji-kun. You can walk me to the car."

"…as long as you promise not to poke me with any scalpels…!"

About an hour later Ban returns. He gets inside the car without a word. His companions can easily see what the glasses can't hide, but no one makes any mention of it. All Ginji says is, "Ban-chan, can we get ice cream?"

"Yeah." And that's that.

--

Hospitals can scrub and scour with as much disinfectant as they like. They can plaster the walls with bright colors and hang as many pretty pictures as they want. But all this festivity can never completely disguise the truth of what these places are at heart: storage camps for the weak, the dying.

At least, this is how Akabane views them, and it's one of many reasons why he has seldom voluntarily set foot inside one (his visit to an ill Ginji-kun excepted) in years. Why remind oneself of the misery that surrounds such a place like smog covering a city?

Akabane stares down at the quietly wheezing form in the bed of Room 110 and thinks that there are just some things, however unpleasant and bittersweet, that one must do sometimes. This happens to be one of them.

"I thought you no longer wished to see weak people," the man in the bed says to him.

"I don't," Akabane replies evenly. "I am merely paying my last respects to an old friend." It hurts in a way to say this, for it brings back many memories – some good, others not so. The past is a raw and brittle fabric that he prefers not to dwell on if he can help it.

"Is that so. He must be important, then, this friend you would so honor with your presence." The old man coughs and peers up at Akabane with a shrewd intelligence that belies his ailing form. "Even so, it would seem that this is carrying courtesy a step over the line for you, Kuroudo. Truthfully, I never expected to see you again after our combative swan song."

"Nor I you. But for better or for worse, I have come to see you off. Is that not what one old friend would do for another?"

"This is true," Semimaru muses. "I must apologize, Kuroudo. It seems I will be the first to learn of this thing we call death."

"Are you afraid?"

The elder casts a sidelong look at him. "Aren't we all? I believe that was what started you on your current path…"

"Let us not speak of such things," Akabane says hastily, taking up a seat next to the bed – close, but not too close. A respectful distance is helpful in maintaining a strained sort of control. "Tell me of your books. Have you acquired any new ones since last we met?"

Semimaru grunts softly. "As if you need ask." He seems to search his memory for a moment, and then quotes.

"_Autumn begins –_

_I thought by now this journey_

_would've ended."_

"Issa. Somehow I am not surprised," Akabane says, recognizing the haiku. "You were always quite partial to the natural world. How curious that you should be so, and yet so absolutely ruthless on the battlefield."

Semimaru snorts. "Now who is the one speaking of old things?"

Akabane shrugs and says,

"_A weathered skeleton _  
_in windy fields of memory, _  
_piercing like a knife."_

"Basho. How fitting, for you to use that one of his." Semimaru sighs and pats the bed. "Come closer, Kuroudo. I would look upon a face I have not seen in ages."

Reluctantly, Akabane complies with the request, though he adjusts his hat to cover more of his expression as he carefully gets up and sits on Semimaru's bedside. Even to this old friend, the only one he has ever known before Midou-kun and Ginji-kun came along, he cannot bear to show the emotions that are welling up inside his breast like a swell of pulsing blood – despite the fact that Semimaru already has seen much more of Kuroudo Akabane than anyone else in this world (Midou-kun excepted, naturally).

By all rights, he should not be here. He does not belong here, he can feel it with every fiber of his being. But this is where fate has led him, and being a consummate professional Akabane will see this path through to its end.

Semimaru is not as robust as he once was. Cancer does that to a person, eats the flesh alive, and what is left often withers as the body consumes its own self in a futile effort to survive. Even so, the worst of the damage is not immediately apparent, for this grizzled old warrior is not one so readily beaten. In the old days they made quite a pair, the hulking Genocide Sergeant and the willowy doctor. One could recite the most enchanting verses just before crushing the skulls of enemies, while the other had an almost godlike gift for restoring the most gruesome wounds to near-perfection with an uncommonly gentle demeanor. Such eloquence and soft-spokenness were at odds with the typical arrogance and brusqueness the troops had been acquainted with before they marched beneath Semimaru's banner and came to Akabane for repairs.

In death, as in life, their lives have taken very different directions. Semimaru now finds himself on the receiving end of that bitter medicine he once doled out – pancreatic cancer is among the most vicious of diseases to suffer from – while Akabane's business usually involves the taking of not only transport items but life itself, a drastic shift from his former focus on preserving it.

Akabane notices his old friend shifting on the mattress with a grimace etched into his burly features. He lets a scalpel extend discreetly from between his index and middle fingers. He is not so crass as to contemplate etching the tenth letter of the alphabet into this flesh. Rather, he considers this blade's kiss a gift, something almost sacred in its purity and intimacy, that he can give to someone he was once quite close to. "If you ask it of me, I would spare you further pain. It's the least I can do in light of our friendship."

Semimaru shakes his head. "I have known far worse pain than this. Besides, it is just recompense for the misery I have inflicted during my earthly stay. Truly, it would seem that those who live by the sword perish similarly at its blade."

Akabane nods and withdraws the scalpel. He takes out a small book from the breast pocket of his coat and shows it to Semimaru. "I have brought some poetry I thought you might enjoy. Shall I read it to you?"

"I would be pleased. You have a beautiful voice, Kuroudo."

"Thank you." Akabane opens the book and begins to read aloud, painting verbal pictures of natural splendor for Semimaru's benefit. Aside from the heart monitor's muted beeps, the occasional driftings of activity heard in the hospital's outer corridors, and the rasp and rattle in the old man's chest as Semimaru struggles to draw breath, his is the only sound present in the room.

At length Akabane finishes another poem and places a bookmark on the page before closing the book, intending to fetch a glass of water to soothe the dryness of his throat. He lays the book on the nightstand when a hand touches his.

"Do you remember that night in the forest, by the spring, Kuroudo? It was you, Yumiko, and me…"

Akabane freezes temporarily in place. He clears his throat quietly and murmurs, "I'm thirsty. Would you like some water to drink, also?"

"It is one of my fondest memories, my friend. I remember how gloriously alive you were that night."

"You should not tax yourself with unnecessary speech. I will summon a nurse to bring us refreshments."

"Even now the shared pleasures of that night remain vivid in my mind. We feasted and drank and spoke of the forbidden as only friends can, and then the three of us found solace in moonlit shadows."

"You look chilled. Perhaps you would like an extra blanket, as well?"

"Surely no other man's virginity was dispensed with in greater style. Heh. How you still blush so prettily even after all these years, dear Kuroudo. Ah, but I forget your proper upbringing. I suppose the sisters would have disapproved of the passion Yumiko and I were witness to."

_Doctors aren't supposed to become involved with their patients, Semimaru. It isn't professional._

_Ah, but doctors are only human too, my friend. As is a warrior like myself. All ships need a safe harbor to come home to eventually. What is your truth, Kuroudo?_

_I don't know._

_Well, perhaps someday you will learn of it…_

Akabane half-rises from his place, tugging at the brim of his hat as he looks for the call button to page a nurse. "This is hardly the time or place to discuss intimate subjects," he says in a low murmur, trying to ignore the unwelcome heat surging into his cheeks at the erotic memories evoked by Semimaru's descriptions.

"On the contrary," the other man declares with a rumble. "I am an old man preparing to embark upon life's final quest. Whatever accounts I have let linger must now come to light, while I still have the will to unveil them."

"Or perhaps you believe you will engage in one last battle to ease your tormented conscience. To think you can deny the void that is coming for you the satisfaction of seeing you weep over the loss of your own blood, when it is the fate you have dealt countless others."

Semimaru hisses. "Yours has become a cold, cold heart, Kuroudo."

Akabane's gaze is steady, calmer now that he feels more in control of himself. "I did not say that to be such. I merely pointed out that what is past, is passed. There is no more point now to be found in the dredging up of such useless scraps."

"No? How far you have drifted from the catechism you were taught as a youth, Kuroudo. Do you not remember what Senichi said to you?"

Akabane doesn't move, doesn't speak. If the air between them had been any colder just now, it would have frozen solid in the stillness that descends abruptly with the mention of Semimaru's lost son.

"You see, I can be just as cutting, Kuroudo. One does not require weapons to draw blood."

Akabane slowly adjusts his hat, not looking at the other man. "You may curse me, if that is your intent. I will not be offended," he says tonelessly.

Something seems to drain from Semimaru's face then, and the old man's head lolls on the pillow. "No. No. Forgive me, Kuroudo. I was grief-stricken and not thinking clearly when I spoke then. I never meant to hurt you. I know now that you did all that you could."

"It wasn't enough." Akabane is aware that he's speaking more to himself now, rather than to Semimaru. But the nightmare they shared looms heavily in this space, threatening to crush them anew with its eternal horror. "What good is it to practice a calling when one cannot accomplish what one was trained to do?"

"You were not at fault, Kuroudo."

"I couldn't save him."

"Senichi adored you. You must know that. He trusted that you would do everything within your power to help him, even if the end result was death. No one could have asked more of you than that."

"I couldn't save anyone…not in that place…" He cannot stop the quavering note of grief that mars his voice, and Akabane wishes he could cut out his own throat. The scalpels prick the surfaces of his palms and he folds his hands in the length of his coat where Semimaru can't see them.

"Kuroudo…" It's a helpless sigh that they both ignore. "It does no good to continue punishing yourself for this. How long must it go on? How much blood must you drown yourself in before you believe that you have found what it is that you seek?" Semimaru asks in a near-whisper.

"I don't know," Akabane answers in a small voice, hearing his own helplessness reflected in the thin tone and hating himself still more for it. _Weak, useless…worthless… _The scalpels burn in the folds of his flesh as their edges slip out from between his fingers, and he clenches his hands in his coat and concentrates on preventing his blood from soaking into the material.

His blood. This is what he dares not confess to Semimaru, who knows him too well. Akabane learned to find a twisted joy in killing because every drop that is spilled, every corpse that litters the land is one less weakness he has to face. One less victim to life's cruelties. As the pain increases with each fight, so too does the strength necessary to overcome it. And…

"Kuroudo."

…it is one more time he can pretend that it is his own death he is embracing. An end fitting for a sinner such as himself. By provoking a God's wrath, repeatedly, perhaps he will finally, some day, receive the damnation and salvation he truly desires for his failures as a so-called human being.

Akabane closes his eyes and thinks of the time when he cut down endless virtual clones of himself in Mugenjou. Would that real life were that easy. He has tried before in the past, too many times to count, and never succeeded. Dispatching the data-clones is the closest he has ever come to killing himself. Akabane sometimes wonders if that is how he will really look if he does die – an empty smile pasted onto his otherwise blank expression, a silent fall of darkness as his body drops to earth with the limpness of a bundle of straw and disintegrates into nothingness, without even a simple black hat or a white glove left abandoned as proof that he ever existed in this world.

He eats and drinks, but there are times when he does not taste it. He sleeps, but his dreams often dissolve into fathomless voids. He wanders among people, but cannot understand their foibles, their emotions, their pleasures, beyond the pettiness and spite and hatred he knows of only too well. The blood, the adrenaline flowing through his veins whenever he encounters a challenge…this is the only evidence he has that he still dwells among the living, because inside, he is a dead man walking. Midou-kun knows and understands this, and Akabane will forever cherish him for it, because he never ever thought that anyone could relate, much less care enough to try to bring even the smallest warmth of light and life to his frozen hell.

"Kuroudo." Something moves in Akabane's peripheral vision and he glances back toward his old friend. Semimaru is reaching out a hand for his, and Akabane's first instinct is to withdraw from the intended touch; pity is more than he can tolerate at this point but his muscles don't cooperate, and the elder's fingers wrap around his in a surprisingly warm and strong grasp. Don't, Akabane wants to say, don't touch me, lest I spread the taint to you as well. I am Death incarnate, that is my truth; you said it yourself all those years ago and I have never failed to prove you right in the time since.

But there is Midou-kun now, another part of himself prompts. Akabane gives a little start of realization at this. Midou-kun promised he would take care of him, and Midou-kun is a man of his word. Midou-kun and Ginji-kun have shown him how to live again, even if every other step taken is a trembling, faulty gait and he trips more often than not along this path. They do not condemn or mock him for his failings – they simply help him up and encourage him to try again.

Akabane often wonders what good is it to have a heart when one is subject to such painful feelings of despair and hopelessness that can shatter it so easily. But then, without a heart…one cannot experience any sort of pleasure at all, he supposes…much less the strange and wonderful feelings he gets when he is with his lover Midou-kun.

_I've seen a lot of death, Akabane-san, and I hate it. _

_What is death, Ginji-kun?_

_Death is losing loved ones. Death takes away the one thing we can't get back – what's most important to any of us. As long as you keep living on, there's meaning in being alive._

For a fleeting second Akabane strains, thinking that he may have just grasped the fragile edges of what Ginji-kun meant by those words, and then its truth escapes him once again, as ever-elusive as an evaporating summer mist. Instead of being annoyed by this, as he usually is by any such failure to comprehend a mystery presented to him in such a tantalizing package, the transporter feels as though he's teetering on a precipice of immense ramifications.

Is being human really so terrible, after all?

"Kuroudo…do you think…I will see him again?"

He knows what the elder wants, needs to hear, and far be it from him to deny a dying man his last rites, even if he himself has doubts. Akabane tentatively lays a gloved palm on Semimaru's hand and says solemnly, "If there is indeed such a place called heaven, and if it is true what they say about those once lost who are reunited with each other, then surely it would be in this place that you and your son will meet again."

Semimaru smiles and closes his eyes. "Very like you, my friend. Very like you."

Akabane says nothing, simply sits quietly, listening to the pneumonic breathing and the hum and blip of nearby machinery. He's just decided to get up in search of his desired water when Semimaru's eyes suddenly snap open and that gnarled hand squeezes his own with astonishing pressure.

"Listen to me, Kuroudo. Do you remember what you said to me during our battle?"

Startled, Akabane's first instinct is to withdraw but the viselike grip his old friend has his hand in makes retreat impossible. He twitches uneasily, limb going stiff with tension from finding himself trapped so without warning. "I told you that I did not wish to speak of the past."

"Not that. What you said to me before we started in earnest. You parried my blow with a grace unparalleled by that of even my finest troops. I remember…I remarked upon this, did I not?"

Akabane nods. "I recall those words. I told you that this skill was achieved through my close studies of my opponents."

"Yes. You said you paid attention to those details, analyzed them, practiced and adapted them to your own style. Well, now you must pay attention to this, Kuroudo." Semimaru stops and sucks down a ragged breath, interrupted only by the spastic coughing in his chest. It's a disgusting sound that makes Akabane cringe inside.

"Shall I fetch the attending physician? I fear your spells have grown more violent…"

Semimaru waves his offer off. "No. No. You need to hear this, Kuroudo. It may be the only time anyone has ever spoken of it to you, and I will not be lax in my duty." He looks hard at Akabane, who can't repress the flinch he feels upon being regarded with that commanding stare. Age and sickness have dulled nothing of the former sergeant's vivid black eyes. "I have heard the rumors. Even in a place like this people still talk, and I have my ears placed where they will gather what I will. You have become involved with someone."

Akabane starts to say something but the old man's tone regains its former drill presence, even if momentarily. "Do not think to deny me, Kuroudo. I saw it in you the instant you entered this room. I can see it now, in your eyes that you try to hide from the world. Death does not hold the same fascination for you these days, does it?"

"I – "

"Ah, but this is as it should be, my friend. Now listen to me. This person you have taken for your mate? Hold fast to him. Never let him go. Whatever he has done for you, he has lit a candle in your world of darkness and it has made an immeasurable difference even if you yourself aren't aware of it. And I assure you, it is a mutual sharing."

That puzzles Akabane. Midou-kun is strong in both body and mind. What benefit does he receive from their arrangement, besides that of having a readily available partner for sparring and lovemaking sessions?

"It is mutual," Semimaru repeats firmly. "We do nothing without affecting this dimension in ripples, though our cast stones may seem insignificant at first. Your lover would not have chosen to remain with you otherwise."

Perhaps this is true. "He…knows," Akabane says softly. "He doesn't like it. But he understands it, and he accepts it to a certain degree."

"And that is enough for you?"

"I don't mind living with it, if this is to be my lot," Akabane shrugs and his gaze softens. "We are compatible in spite of our differences. We've done our best to make it work."

"More than that," Semimaru remarks. "You are committed to each other. That makes all the difference, my friend."

He reaches for the slender wooden neck of something beside the bed, thick fingers fumbling for purchase. Akabane rises and reaches over to help him withdraw the instrument partially concealed by hospital furnishings: his beloved pipa. It's Semimaru's other talent, a performance of notes so skilled so as to seem more magical than musical, and indeed, when wielded by a master like Semimaru this music has the power to entrance others into a warlike state so perfect that nothing can stand in that army's path.

"The hour grows late. Shall we have this one last dance between old friends?"

"If it pleases you," Akabane responds huskily.

Semimaru nods approvingly. "Sing for me, Kuroudo," his old friend commands, and slowly positions the pipa in his arms and lap as he begins to play a haunting melody.

Akabane closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and allows the words to flow from his lips:

_It's the book of my days, it's the book of my life  
And it's cut like a fruit on the blade of a knife  
And it's all there to see as the section reveals  
There's some sorrow in every life_

_If it reads like a puzzle, a wandering maze  
Then I won't understand 'til the end of my days  
I'm still forced to remember,  
Remember the words of my life_

_There's a chapter on fathers, a chapter on sons  
There are pages of conflicts that nobody won  
And the battles you lost and your bitter defeat,  
There's a page where we fail to meet_

_There are tales of good fortune that couldn't be planned  
There's a chapter on God that I don't understand  
There's a promise of Heaven and Hell but I'm damned if I see_

_Though the pages are numbered  
I can't see where they lead  
For the end is a mystery no-one can read  
In the book of my life_

It is fortunate that this is a private room, and that the patient's chart has orders for his rest not to be disturbed without permission; otherwise an unwelcome audience would surely have gathered, attracted by the bewitching notes from Semimaru's pipa and the dusky croon of Akabane's voice. This concert is for them alone, as befits two old warriors, two ageless friends who have cut each other countless times with barbed words but never quite to kill, always speaking nothing less than the truth of what they owe one another.

When the song ends the last notes from the pipa fade into mental echoes. Semimaru lets the instrument slip loosely in his hands, resting his fingers along its strings with the feeble grip of the infirm. His strength has been drained beyond his limits this eve, but it is done, as was meant. All that remains is for them to take their final leave of each other in the waning minutes of the elder's life.

Akabane helps the other man move his pipa back to its previous place, and carefully tucks in the covers around Semimaru's sides. Even in the face of such a belittling disease, he would see to it that his old friend sheds these mortal coils with some trace of dignity.

Semimaru speaks in the ghostlike silence. "I would hear you say it at least once before I go, Kuroudo."

"I am not certain that I can," Akabane whispers. If nothing else, he owes Semimaru the truth. He feels wetness start to trickle down his face and inwardly curses himself for it.

"Ahh. I appreciate your honesty, my friend, even if it is not what I desire," the other man says with a sad smile at him. "You always were my one true comrade. Well. It will come in time, if not now. I only wished to hear it fall from your lips. Call it an old man's foolish sentimentality."

"You were never weak to me," Akabane says.

"We are all weak, each of us in our own way," Semimaru quietly insists. "Even now, as I go to meet my maker, I know that I will be called upon to confess my sins. Too late, I fear, have I learned that only in others will we ever know our true strength."

"I will offer prayers for the safe passage of your soul on its journey tonight."

"As I have for yours a thousand times over and more, my dear friend."

Akabane closes his eyes, feeling tears seep through his lashes. "I do not know that there is anything left to pray for." _Nor do the fallen deserve such,_ he thinks to himself. It is a cursed fate he has long ago accepted.

Semimaru reaches up and brushes a few drops of dampness away from one pale cheek. "You underestimate yourself, Kuroudo. Surely you cannot be completely irredeemable, if you have at least one person who cares for you."

Akabane looks away for a second, his eyes softening at the thought of Midou-kun waiting for him, and in the ebbing of Semimaru's life force the words are finally given form. "Once I wished to kill him…"

"But now, you want to protect him," Semimaru finishes.

A dark head bows, and the whisper is barely audible. "Yes. He…he is…important…to me. Something more…than I ever imagined…"

"This, too, is as it should be."

His time is not long now. Akabane can feel the veil being lifted as the worlds begin to merge for the crossing over of spirits. "Is there any last testament you wish to give voice to, my friend?" he asks quietly.

Semimaru sighs. "All that I have to say, I have made plain enough tonight. But if it shall ease your conscience, Kuroudo, I have arranged for something to be delivered to you later. Within this package I believe you shall find what it is that you are seeking."

Curiosity pricks Akabane's thoughts, but he refrains from pursuing them. Semimaru is dying now.

"Goodbye, Kuroudo. I will see you on the other side, God willing."

"Rest now, Kanade-sama."

"Kanade-_kun,_" the old man corrects with his last bit of sternness, and somehow they both manage a remnant of a smile for each other.

Semimaru takes his last breath, inhales it as though savoring the final wisps of a treasured aroma, and then slowly lets the stream exit his body in a whispered farewell:

_"Goodbye. I will go _  
_alone down Kiso Road _  
_old as autumn."_

Behind him, the monitor's fading blips level off into an incessant drone.

Without looking up, Akabane reaches for the switch to silence the machine. The resulting quiet is deafening in its totality. He leans down and gently kisses Semimaru's cooling lips, his forehead.

"Fare thee well, old friend."

Akabane takes a few minutes to compose himself, to sip some water and rinse away the moisture staining his face, and tidy his hat upon his head. Nurses and doctors arrive suddenly to fill the room, having been alerted elsewhere by the cessation of the heart monitor's information, and in the commotion he slips away from the crowd in an ether of black shadow.

Outside, the sunset is wrapping the skies in its burnished gold. The wind murmurs sweetly through his hair and the bustle of evening life echoes in the distance. Midou-kun and Ginji-kun are parked beside one of the trees, waiting with lit cigarette and ice cream cone in hand, respectively.

No one says a word while getting into the car.

They're speeding down the road into that endless horizon when Ginji-kun turns around in the front seat and offers Akabane a wad of tissues. "Is everything all right, Akabane-san?"

"I'm fine." Akabane manages a small smile, and lightly shakes his head as he politely declines the tissues. "I cried all my tears a long time ago, Ginji-kun."

Not true. Interestingly, it seems that well has not yet run dry. Later, Akabane knows, Midou-kun will come to him in the darkness of their bedroom. And they will strip away all barriers until there is nothing left but nakedness, and he will take Midou-kun's hand in his, and ask his lover to prove to him that he is still alive. Then, and only then, will Akabane grant himself permission to spend this wealth of emotion accumulating within.

Maybe Semimaru was right, he reflects as he looks out the window watching the twilight world speed by underneath the umbrella of a large black hat. Maybe the best answer death can offer is that life – loving – is the _only_ answer…

--

The date is months away yet. But for those who live under certain deadlines, as does Himiko Kudou, X marks the spot where one life begins, and another ends. Come February 10th, she knows, she will wake up to a markedly different world than the one in which she went to sleep on the eve of the ninth.

Rather like the morning which unfolded as a bad dream, when she returned from grocery shopping to find her adored brother dead, and at the hands of another cherished family member, at that.

Himiko gazes through the condensation-stained windowpane, seeing nothing at present but the image of her brother: cool, cocky, yet warmhearted to a fault. Through the very gates of hell, it was said, Yamato Kudou had carried her to safety from the faceless entities which desired their brutal sacrifice. She wishes he had told her more; the few things she knows are naught but frayed pieces of memorized fabric, precious gifts hard-earned from the words of others that were passed along as opportunities arose.

_Voodoo Child, Himiko. This is your past; this will be your destiny. Learn from the present and be ready when the calling comes. I know you'll do us both proud, kiddo._

Seeing Yamato again, however corporeal his form appeared in the material world, hadn't, surprisingly, been the shock she had thought it would be. When summoned by the priestess Maria he had come readily, almost as if waiting for this conduit to be opened in order to finally confess his secrets. Himiko remembers the bittersweet joy of seeing his familiar face once more, and the stabbing reminder in her heart that he was beyond her reach forevermore, despite this brief reunion.

She still has the card drawn from that enchanted deck.

With a sigh Himiko turns away from the window and goes to the little shrine. She puts one up every year, has done ever since that fateful day. It's not really a memorial per se, as it contains none of the idols or artifacts normally present in such homemade altars, but to her it is a sacred place, a private moment aside from time where she can pay respects to her departed brother. Himiko doesn't consider herself a religious person, not in the strictest sense of the word, but she prefers to think – hopes – that somewhere out there, there is a benevolent deity who keeps watch over and protects Yamato's soul.

She is studying the flickers of candlelight – a scented candle augmented with a few drops of perfume, Yamato's favorite – watching the way the patterns reflect and change across the pictures of her brother, wondering whether or not his appearance would have changed any had he been allowed to live – when she hears a reluctant knock on her door.

Curious and not without a degree of unease, Himiko slowly goes to answer it. Those few people privy to her home address wouldn't be likely to come by this late, and it is not unheard of for agents in the transport business to receive unwelcome visits from rivals and enemies. As she passes by the table in the hall she picks up a bottle of flame perfume from behind a cat statuette, kept there for just such a purpose. She holds the bottle poised in her fingers, corked but ready to flick off the stopper at a moment's notice, and peers through the peephole.

She's rather surprised, and yet not, to see Ban standing outside. Behind him is her constant shadow, now Ban's as well – Akabane.

Himiko puts away her poison perfume, and unlocks and opens the door.

Ban awkwardly shifts the box of cheap dishes he's holding in one arm. He scuffs his boot on the mat and favors her with a somewhat wary look. He looks tired tonight, she thinks, older than his years. She wonders if he realizes what the date is. Very little escapes Ban's notice. He's in the business to know things, after all, but more than that – he's needed to know things in order to scrape by.

He clears his throat. "Can we come in?"

It's misting out, some damp fog creeping in on the banks of the front passing through. Himiko inhales the cool scent of moisture and her glance passes to Akabane, who appears hunched over something wrapped inside his coat. The hat, as always, blocks the majority of his expression from view. Himiko feels safe in assuming it's his usual seamless placidity.

Ban's voice underscores the ink of the night with its low incantation, and draws her attention when he says,

"_A world of dew, _  
_and within every dewdrop _  
_a world of struggle."_

As if to accentuate his point, a bead of moisture rolls down off one of the dampened spikes of his brown hair, and lands with a fat plop on his skin, right below his left eye. Himiko doesn't realize she's staring at it until Ban speaks again.

"Kobayashi Issa. Poet. It just seemed fitting, I guess." He coughs.

"What are you doing here so late?"

Ban looks down and pushes his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. He does that when he's thinking, she's noticed.

"_I go out alone _  
_to visit a woman alone _  
_in this autumn dusk."_

He looks up. "That one's Buson. Paraphrased for my purposes, heh, since you're not male and I'm hardly alone," he says, nodding at Akabane, who suddenly offers his own curiously fitting address in a low, fey vocal:

"_Utter aloneness __  
__another great pleasure _

_in autumn twilight."_

Ban gives a small smile of approval. "Another Buson," he explains.

Himiko nods as she looks at him again. "What are those for?" she asks, gesturing at the dishes.

He hands them to her as she steps aside to allow them entry. "So's you have something else instead of my face to break. Though…" He sighs heavily, rifling through his pockets for his smoking implements. "I can't say as I'd blame you if you did want to smash a few rounds on me."

His unexpected, tacit admission of guilt pricks her heart like the careless scratch of a thorn, and she blinks away a sudden surge of tears. Himiko catches the gentle swirl of a black trenchcoat's tails out of the corner of her eye as Akabane soundlessly enters, closing and relocking the door behind him. "Why is that?" she asks Ban, suspicion perking as she picks up on the agitation he's not even trying to hide. He reeks of shame almost as much as Doctor Jackal does of blood after a particularly vicious fight.

Akabane's murmur is pitched for her ears. "What Midou-kun is trying to say, Himiko-san, is that he has something very important he wishes to tell you. May we stay a short while, if it isn't too much trouble?" he inquires, ever the gracious houseguest.

Himiko stares at Ban. Blue eyes reveal nothing, their fathomless intent masked by Ban's stubborn will and tinted glasses. He'd almost prefer this to turn into a fight, she realizes. It'd be more comfortable for him that way. He doesn't wear unease well, as shown by his stiff posture, hands jammed in pants pockets, the restless twitch of muscles in his forearms. She purposely avoids looking at his right arm.

"I'll make us some tea," she says, leading them into the living room of her apartment.

"Coffee," Ban grunts, trailing in her wake a second later. Akabane stays behind to remove his boots and leave them by the front door, along with the odd package he was holding and his hat – now that's interesting, usually he doesn't bother to take that thing off when entering a building, but then, the man is fastidiously polite in the observance of such habits. When he does Himiko can see, as he follows seamlessly in Ban's path, that he has his own concerns: though his standard calm smile is firmly in place, his eyes are reddened and there are deep shadows beneath, as if he'd been staying up far too late into the evening hours, or…crying.

That makes no sense at all. Doctor Jackal doesn't cry. And Ban Midou never shows fear. Predators cannot afford weakness, even amongst their own kind. But here they are, the two of them, vulnerable and needy each in his own way, and it is with her, the Witch of all Poisons, that they request solace. Himiko suddenly feels adult beyond her years, a weariness settling on her shoulders like a mantle she has both yearned for and dreaded her entire lifetime.

She goes to the kitchen, sets the box of used dishes on the counter and starts to prepare their drinks.

"Forget the coffee," Ban decides. "Got any alcohol in this place?"

"I don't, usually," Himiko says, even as she abandons the empty teapot on the stove and heads to her cupboard. "There might be sake, or a little bit of zinfandel – "

"Beer. What about beer?"

Himiko shrugs. "In the refrigerator." She doesn't drink it herself, and she hopes that he'll have enough grace not to point out the obvious – that she keeps it on hand in wishful thinking that he'll drop by.

Ban nods approvingly as he opens the door to the refrigerator, immediately spotting the case of stout in the back. Perhaps it's due to his ancestry, or maybe he just has an appreciation for the drink, but he's always held a preference for fine German lagers and ales. He takes out three bottles, keeping one for himself and handing one each to Akabane and Himiko.

Akabane shakes his head. "Thank you, but water is fine for me."

Himiko likewise declines. "I'm not thirsty."

The beer is pushed into her hands anyway. "Don't be such a stubborn brat," Ban says mildly. "When you hear what I have to say, you'll wish you were drunk."

The old fury bubbles anew in Himiko at the provocation, and she resists the urge to stomp her foot. "Why don't you just tell me, then, instead of coming in here acting like a skittish fool?"

Ban starts to speak, probably some rude comeback his mind's in the process of formulating, his mouth partially open. Instead, he shuts it, and looks around the darkened apartment, scowling. "What's with all the candles? Your electric go out or something?" he grumbles.

"Ban!"

To her surprise Akabane puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Please, have patience with him, Himiko-san. Midou-kun has been struggling with this decision for a long time. The words for this aren't likely to come as easily as any of us would prefer," he offers as explanation in that velvety-soft purr of his.

She looks up at him and sees the same age-old fatigue in his eyes as Ban's. Funny, she thinks, how shockingly human Akabane can seem sometimes. Secretly, she treasures these rare glimpses of him, a man she has grown to trust with her very life, a person who despite his inhuman abilities and poise is more real to her than most of the strangers on the streets, the contacts she deals with as a transporter. She's always believed Akabane to be, at heart, a very lonely and lost man, and his chosen relationships (or lack thereof) would support that. In Ban he has found a kindred spirit, someone who understands him on an intimate level no one else could comprehend, who isn't intimidated by his formidable powers.

What Akabane sees in her, Himiko isn't sure. She knows instinctively that they're more than just colleagues…she's come to look upon him as part of the peculiar family she found herself adopted into, taking into account Maguruma as part of their transporting trio. Indeed, the proprietary gestures and almost protective thoughtfulness Akabane exhibits when around her aren't merely for show. He genuinely seems to feel some sort of affection for her.

She realizes that she has come to care for him as well, when he offers her a small smile, not one of his usual politeness, more one that's almost shyly hesitant, a quiet request for her acceptance. His eyes are curiously soft with unusual warmth as they gaze down at her; Himiko has always thought that Akabane has the most beautiful eyes of anyone she's ever seen, save Ban's, but that cool beauty was always screened behind a curtain of self-containment. Detached from the world though he appears to be, the one thing that Akabane can't help is his eyes – the windows to his soul, if he still has one.

She believes – as she suspects certain others do - that he does. Even if he himself remains, at the least, in eternal doubt.

Ban looks relieved by his lover's intercession. They gather in her living room, opting to take pillows from the couch and pile those on the floor rather than use the furniture. Ban pops the cap on his beer, and urges his companions to do the same. "Drink up before it gets warm."

"I'm not a happy drunk, I'll warn you right now," Himiko says, uncapping her beer but not touching it just yet.

"You won't be happy anyway, but that's not the point. It's just to take the edge off," Ban replies, after having a generous gulp of his beer. He looks at Akabane, whose beer remains unopened. "And you," he says, jabbing a finger at the pale man, "I just want to see drunk, period. I think that'd be _interesting,_" he chuckles darkly.

Akabane smiles, and is it Himiko's imagination, or is that smile a bit wan? "Now, Midou-kun. One of us must be the designated driver," he points out.

"If you think I'm gonna let you touch my precious Bug, you're even more insane than I give you credit for." Ban reaches over and flicks off the cap of the unopened beer. "Start guzzling, Jackal. If we're lucky, maybe you'll drink enough to start dancing for our entertainment." His tight smirk disappears into seriousness. "After what you and I have been through in the last couple of days, I'd rather you enjoy a nice beer buzz instead of going off on a J-bender."

Akabane's smile vanishes. His lower lip trembles just a tad – no mistaking that there, Himiko sees – which he quickly composes before the tremors become noticeable. His eyes, however, are bright with fresh pain.

Himiko wonders what on earth could compel Akabane Kuroudo to shed tears that Doctor Jackal does not understand.

"Very well," Akabane concedes in hushed tones. "We will drink, and we will speak of things forbidden, as only companions can, and we will share this solitude together."

Ban nods slowly. "Maybe the damn jackal has a point," he says now to Himiko. "Some people can really surprise you when you least expect it. For sure, Ginji's shocked the hell outta me at times." He grimaces at his unintended pun. "But I made Yamato a promise, and by God I mean to see it through."

He clenches his fist around the bottle of beer as he starts talking, words haltingly separating themselves from his lips like so much sticky rice glued together and broken apart, and in the vise of the grip around her heart Himiko worries she'll have to clean up broken glass. But Ban hasn't reached that point, not yet, even while he's speaking of curses and legacies and death, and he uncurls his fingers a little to let the bottle rest safely in his hand.

So begins the tale of the Voodoo Child.

And when it is done – after many, many tears, the spent rage of shattered dishes, and a little bit of inebriated entertainment involving a pipa and a singing jackal - together they three sit, and hold each other, and watch the visions, past and present, dancing in the lone candlelight, because this is one of those times when it is better to remember the dead than dwell amidst the living.

--

1) Haiku by Kobayashi Issa:

_Autumn begins -_

_I thought by now this journey_

_would've ended._

2) Haiku by Basho:

_A weathered skeleton  
in windy fields of memory,  
piercing like a knife _

3) Haiku by Buson:

_Goodbye. I will go _  
_alone down Kiso Road _  
_old as autumn_

4) Haiku by Kobayashi Issa:

_A world of dew, _  
_and within every dewdrop _  
_a world of struggle _

5) Haiku by Buson:

_I go out alone _  
_to visit a man (woman) alone _  
_in this autumn dusk_

6) Haiku by Buson:

_Utter aloneness _  
_another great pleasure _

_in autumn twilight_


	22. But Fear Itself

Title: ...But Fear Itself

Author: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane

Fandom: Get Backers

Theme: #13 – "excessive chain"

Rating: PG-13 (implied m/m, violence, angst)

Warnings/Spoilers: Brief canonical mentions of characters' pasts, some anime- and manga-based.

Disclaimer: I do not own GB.

Notes: This theme is more like 'excessive string,' but hey, you work with what you've got, right?

- Apologies for not getting this out sooner. I've been in the process of moving out-of-state and as anyone who's moved before knows well, moving is a BITCH. (I don't even have my computer hooked up yet; I've been working this from other locations.)

Summary: Everyone is afraid of something. Ban Midou and Akabane Kuroudo are no exceptions.

--

Fear. So simple, yet so powerful. It never ceases to amaze Kazuki how fear manipulates, rules, creates or destroys people's lives. He knows the power of fear only too well because he himself wields it, in the space of threads that can either weave things – people - together or tear them to shreds. He is the Prince of Battle Terror.

For all his dalliances with fear Kazuki is a gentle, kind soul at large – until crossed. Then he allows his wrath free reign as the strings lash out with all the fury of wildcat's claws. Some say that this is utter perfection, his technique – no one else in the history of the Fuuchouin clan has ever displayed such skill; others say that Kazuki is a master of the strings because he has mastered that unseen yet lethal power which dictates most opponents' moves. Kazuki himself believes there is truth to both sides. He has trained long for this, his calling...and he has made critical studies of fear in order to know both himself and his enemies better.

Kazuki understands fear not so much because he uses it, but because he grew up in the flames of it.

There are as many kinds of fear as there are types of threads, and user techniques. Fear of public speaking tops many people's lists. Fear of certain kinds of insects and animals is another. Kazuki has been observing Ban Midou for a while now and he believes that the Jagan man has his fears, just like any other person, though he keeps them hidden close so as not to mar the image he presents of himself as a tough, streetwise fighter. It's an image that isn't wholly image, because over time Midou has proven himself an extremely deadly opponent, with an amazing capacity for strategy and formulation. Midou, however, prefers to wear this face even when not engaged in a battle, and Kazuki can understand that. Masks serve as armor and are quite effective in protecting the true surface beneath – a surface which until now only Kazuki's former Emperor was privileged to view.

Things have changed with the introduction of a Jackal into the fray.

Kazuki can respect Akabane Kuroudo, though he does not particularly care for the man's methods. This is someone who is as skilled as Kazuki in wielding fear's many-bladed weapons, though in a different format and almost always with deadlier purpose than the threadmaster. Off the battlefield Akabane is pleasant enough, polite and observant with an air of calm detachment, all important traits of a warrior. There is something more to him, however, that brings to Kazuki's mind an otherworldly air, the hint of arcane that breathes lethal mystery in the jackal's wake as he passes by. Kazuki admits he is fascinated by this, and not just because Akabane boasts a disturbing familiarity with Mugenjou's workings that no mortal should have, and so has taken to his other specialty of late: gathering information.

Seeking answers to the questions posed by his inquisitive mind is nothing new. He's been on a fact-finding mission ever since he fled the blazing ruins of his family home one blood-soaked night, only to slam into a wall of more questions without answers when he wound up in Mugenjou. For a while this craving was soothed, when he vowed fealty to Ginji Amano and discovered a rare peace serving under Lower Town's benevolent ruler. But it never disappeared entirely, and when Kazuki found himself without liege or land once more he took up his old habits as easily as Midou lights one of the cigarettes he favors.

It helps that Kazuki's threads are incredibly versatile. They can do many things besides cut and maim and bind and weave, and one of those tricks is currently providing him with some interesting information. Kazuki perches on the tree limb that extends high above the lake, his presence concealed by the abundant foliage, and listens with a thoughtful mind to the conversation taking place below.

"Ahhhhhh. Nothing like a cool dip in the drink after a rough night. Right, Jackal?"

"Very refreshing, I agree. But do you know what would make it more fun, Midou-kun?"

"What?"

There's the light splash of water. "If you would come to play with me," the other man entreats with a gently teasing tone. "It's been awhile, and I'm bored..."

More water splashes. "Go soak your head," Midou grunts, not with any real annoyance. "We can't fight in the water, you dope."

"Mmm...but don't you think it would be interesting to try? You never know until you try."

"You're not serious, Akabane. There's no place for us to get any solid footing."

A rippling vibration winds along the length of his string, letting Kazuki know that Akabane is on the move as the transporter swims closer to his lover. "Oh, but I am serious, Midou-kun. Who needs footing when there is only opportunity?"

With that, the fight is on. The string shudders and jerks suddenly as the two men struggle – not seriously – for the upper hand. There's laughter and insults –

"Catch me if you can, Midou-kun!"

"Dammit, Jackal! I'll teach you to sneak up on me like that!"

- which bring a wry amusement to Kazuki's expression. He subtly twists his fingers, tracking their movements, reminded of the jests and roughhousing that went on when Volts was still active. They were a family of sorts back then...

The abrupt, hard yank on the string brings Kazuki back to the moment. He braces himself, fielding the thread as it threatens to slip beyond his grasp. Below he can hear struggling that's taken on a sudden ferocity, as someone – it sounds like Akabane – is trying to fend off an attack that wasn't planned.

There's gasping and wild sprays of water, and then as quickly as it happens the tension dissipates, the string going limp in Kazuki's fingers. The transporter coughs roughly as he draws in several shaky breaths.

_"Fuck."_ Midou's voice is loaded with anger, not all of it reserved for his lover. "Fuck." He sounds more upset with himself.

Kazuki's ears prick with curiosity and he strains to listen, to discern the different vibrations traveling his string and interpret their meanings. Apparently the two have drifted apart and are treading water now, recovering from the shock of the incident.

Akabane breaks the awkward silence. "Midou-kun? Are you all right?" The note of concern in his velvety voice is genuine, a truth that's all the more surprising given his fearsome reputation.

"Am _I_ all right? Jesus, Jackal, who should be asking the questions here?" There's a little tremor to Midou's voice that he's trying unsuccessfully to hide. "I could've snapped your neck like a twig!"

"That was my fault. I shouldn't have dunked you under without warning like that. I'm sorry, Midou-kun." He pauses, and then says, "That was a rather extreme reaction, don't you think?"

It's Midou's turn to apologize. "Sorry," he grunts, and Kazuki has the distinct impression that apologizing for anything is a difficult task he's unaccustomed to tackling; thus his admittance of guilt is a rare and honest prize hard-won. "Just...don't ever do anything like that again. Okay?"

"All right."

"I hate having my head shoved under water," Midou grumbles. "Fucking freaks me out."

Akabane's tone takes on a softer nuance. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you, Midou-kun."

"Who says I was scared?" the other man snaps, a complete denial of his earlier actions. Even the great invincible Ban Midou-sama has his weaknesses that he refuses to give name to, for to name something is to own a power over it – or to give it power over someone. Names are a kind of magic in themselves, Kazuki knows. It was one of the first things he learned growing up at the Fuuchouin School.

"It's only natural to be afraid of drowning, Midou-kun. A dreadful way to die, if I do say so myself." Akabane is quiet, and then he adds, "Is that why you won't go diving with Ginji-kun when we visit the community pool?"

"Shut up."

The silence extends a few more minutes before Akabane presses the issue again. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Midou-kun – "

"I said drop it!"

There's a pregnant silence in the interim that makes Kazuki think that Akabane is hurt by the harsh finality in his lover's voice. Indeed, the silence stretches for several minutes before either man speaks again, and it's Midou who finally breaches that barrier.

"Before you came along, Ginji and I went swimming at the beach once." The snake-master's tone is flat, unwilling to hint of anything resembling past emotion. "You know how he is – always gotta horse around."

There's a quiet murmur of agreement from Akabane. "Mm."

"He jumped on me and wouldn't let me up till I gave him back this stupid inflatable toy he was playing with. I know he didn't mean any harm, but – " and here Midou's voice cracks just a little, as if he can't bear to tar his best friend with this dubious memory – "dammit, he had no idea that I was choking on sand and water was burning up my nose. I thought I was gonna drown."

Kazuki feels the string twitch, and decides that Akabane has cautiously approached the other to offer silent support. Or to better hear his story, since Midou's voice has dropped considerably in volume.

"I ripped him a new one when he let go. I know he can't help it, but there's times when I wish he wasn't so goddamn naïve about things. I mean, if it was Raitei, I wouldn't be here right now, Jackal. Raitei's seen and done shit that would be on a par with some of the crazies I knew from the Old World..."

A sliver of recognition makes the hairs on the back of Kazuki's neck prickle. Therein lies the reason behind Midou's distrust of water. He has to admit he feels sympathy for the man when his next words, infused with growing bitterness, confirm Kazuki's suspicions.

"You know how they used to test for witches back then, Akabane? They'd tie a big stone to you and throw you into a well, or some other body of water. If you managed to swim back to surface, you proved to them that you were a witch, and they'd burn you at a stake or torture you to death for the sin of practicing witchcraft. If you sunk and drowned, they declared you innocent. Small fucking compensation for what amounted to murder anyway." Midou forces a laugh, cold and sharp as ice. "You didn't even have to be caught doing anything suspicious. If you looked at somebody the wrong way, or a neighbor didn't like you, you could kiss your ass goodbye. Hell, they even did it to animals, if the animal had the wrong color fur or came from an unpopular species."

He pauses, then adds, "And this kind of shit still goes on in some parts of the world. Some fucking enlightened times we live in."

The water burbles with motion, and Akabane closes the gap between them, presumably to offer a comforting embrace. "I would never do that to you, Midou-kun," he says with soft horror. "Never."

Midou doesn't answer right away, but the string in Kazuki's fingers vibrates slightly, a cue that he's returning the embrace. He sighs heavily. "I know you wouldn't, Jackal. And I know Ginji wouldn't either. It just brought back a whole bunch of bad memories for me. I can swim fine otherwise. I just have to remind Ginji not to pull me under, is all."

"And now that I know better, I won't ever do that to you again," Akabane says solemnly. "I'm so sorry, Midou-kun. Please forgive me?"

There's the muted sound of a kiss being granted upon skin. "It's all right," Midou says quietly.

Kazuki gazes thoughtfully into the night. He knows Ban Midou to be an enigma, and this adds further layers of mystery into the puzzle, despite the insights he has gained into the man's character. Perhaps a consultation with Ginji might be in order. There are things only he is privy to, and despite the relative lack of street-sense, Ginji has always had a knack for honing in on the truth of matters.

Carefully, quickly and quietly, Kazuki reels in his string and departs, leaving the fated lovers to their moonlight privacy.

--

He doesn't get a chance to talk to Ginji until the following week, and when he does Kazuki discovers the former emperor isn't alone. The Get Backers have been hired to track down a missing photograph, which is believed to have been accidentally discarded in one of the city trash depositories. In the midst of searching the vast piles of garbage scattered all along the downtown area, Ginji has become separated from Ban in one of the alleyways and wound up partnered instead with none other than Doctor Jackal.

Needless to say, all is not well in Ginji's corner of Camelot.

"I was growing bored, waiting outside for Midou-kun," Akabane cheerfully explains to the cowering young man in front of him. "So I decided your mission might move along faster if I came to help."

"Um – well – that's nice of you, Akabane-san," Ginji stammers from his knee-deep position in a heap of moldy leftovers. "But there's really not much for you to do here. Besides, Ban-chan's probably already found the picture ahead of me. You should go ask him – _what are you doing!?"_

In the space of a heartbeat Akabane has moved, faster than Kazuki's eye can track him, and reappeared directly behind Ginji with white-gloved fingers upraised. He neatly flicks away the piece of rotten lettuce that was stubbornly clinging to a side of Ginji's face.

"It's not good for you to wallow in such squalor," Akabane gently chides. "You might fall ill from the germs in this mess, and we can't have that, now, can we?"

Ginji takes a flying leap backwards, putting a healthy space between him and the other. He shoots the jackal an indignant glare. "Stop sneaking up on me like that! It can't be helped. We have to find that picture in order to complete our job."

A petite frown makes Akabane's slender brows crease. "Surely there must be a more expeditious and cleaner way to locate this item. Has the client offered much information?"

Ginji picks at a crust of soggy bread that's dried on his skin. "He told us he'd put it on his desk along with some other papers. Later when he came back to his office to get it, he shoved a bunch of stuff into his briefcase 'cause he was in a hurry. When the maid came in to clean, she accidentally swept whatever was left on the desk into the trash. That's all he knows."

"I see. Who is this client, if I might ask?"

"A company president in Shinjuku. According to Ban-chan, his business turns out forty percent of all janitorial supplies produced in the country."

"Mm. Then don't you think it would be better to start at the place of origin?"

"We did. But the garbage had already been collected by the time we got there," Ginji groans.

"I see." Akabane tilts his head to one side, mulling the remaining options, if there are any. "Have you tried looking at the nearest depositories?"

"Their trash is picked up by the janitorial service they use. But the client said that the guy who normally takes it was sick that day, and his replacement wasn't familiar with the area so he said he just dumped it in one of the big bins around here." Ginji scratches his head, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he's working the foul stench of eau de rotten banana peel into his scalp as well. "Ban-chan sure wasn't happy about it when he heard the news, so he says the only thing we can do now is to search every trash can and dump truck we find. I told him we should call Shido and ask him to ask his animals for help," he grumbles, "but he didn't like that idea either."

Akabane sighs and shakes his head, the motion sending soft tendrils of jet black undulating across his face and shoulders. "Goodness, Midou-kun is so terribly stubborn, isn't he? I suppose one of these days I shall have to have a word with him about that. A true professional never allows personal grudges to get in the way of his work." He smiles suddenly, a brilliant expression that's disturbingly adorable. "Isn't that right, Ginji-kun?"

"Uh...I guess?" Ginji mumbles, starting to back into the mountain of garbage behind him as if hoping to take shelter within its revolting mass.

Akabane's smile broadens as he slinks closer. "Come now, Ginji-kun. Naturally _you_ aren't like that, of course. After all, we got on so well when we were together during the IL mission..."

"Eep." The feeble, strained whimper exiting Ginji's throat could be agreement. Or not.

Kazuki watches the unfolding scene below with grim amusement. He can't quite decide if Doctor Jackal is purposely enjoying the effects his subtly threatening presence has on others aware of his homicidal tendencies, or if he truly is oblivious to his would-be-partner's distress. Maybe it's a little bit of both, Kazuki reflects, for though Akabane is strictly observant of polite conduct and proper manners and genuinely seems to want to help, he's also never made any secret of the fact that he hopes to eventually have a no-holds-barred battle with Ginji – or rather, the lord of thunder who shares his bodily form.

"Ginji-kun," Akabane coaxes, "I do believe your alarm is rather disproportionate to any perceived danger. You're much more likely to be mugged by a stray thief or contract illness from all this trash."

The statistical news is hardly reassuring to Ginji, who hunkers deeper into the pile of refuse. "I'll be fine, Akabane-san...say, I bet Ban-chan probably found the picture by now. I bet he's back by the car wondering where you went!"

Akabane utters a soft, longsuffering sigh. "Ginji-kun. Come now. I promise I won't bite...very hard," he adds with a mischievous twinkle in his purple eyes.

He ventures closer. The trash heap shrinks further unto itself and then suddenly explodes in a confetti shower of disgusting debris. Ginji is holding onto his knee and yelping like a kicked puppy as he hops about. "Ooh! Ban-chan was right, glass IS nasty!"

Akabane's pleasant calm instantly melts into a concerned frown. "You've cut yourself? Oh dear..." And he moves in another blur of greyed black, in one blink of Kazuki's eye to the next, reappearing beside Ginji to settle the bouncing bundle of Get Backer. "Please, let me see it."

"No! It hurts!"

"It needs to be treated at once. You wouldn't want to end up with a scar, would you?"

Ginji is losing his struggle to fend off the pale wraith's advances. "I'm fine! I'm fine! Really, Akabane-san! You don't have to worry about me!"

"On the contrary, Ginji-kun," Akabane replies, all businesslike now that he has a new focus. "An infected wound can become quite serious if not treated properly. And merciful heavens, look at you – you're covered from head to toe in grime!" The transporter clucks his tongue in dismay. "I know that Midou-kun usually looks after you, but since he isn't present it seems I must step in. I shan't allow any harm to befall you as long as you remain under my care, Ginji-kun. I do hope you have had a tetanus shot."

"A - _shot?"_ Ginji's voice finds higher pitches probably not in any known existence.

"Yes. Sharp objects can be very dangerous."

Kazuki muffles a snort of laughter behind his braid. Akabane has the most curious sense of humor, a blend of dry wit and innocently twisted observation that, like his weapons of choice, can slice with devastating precision where and when one least expects it. The transporter, he's noticed, operates under a peculiar but binding logic, which is why Kazuki isn't worried about Ginji's welfare...at the moment. As long as his former leader doesn't accidentally introduce the prospect of a fight into the equation, Doctor Jackal will live up to only the first half of his moniker.

Below in the street, Ginji tries to avoid the imminent medical examination. "Don't you even think about coming near me with any scalpels," he warns. "Don't forget, I can still zap you with my electromagnet like I did that one time."

"How could I ever forget such an incredible moment? Ah, I do hate to disappoint you, Ginji-kun, but I'm afraid I'm carrying ceramic today," Akabane replies with a sweetly wicked smile as he holds up one shining knife. "And as I'm sure you know by now, ceramic cannot respond to electricity."

Ginji gulps audibly. His fear couldn't be any more transparent than if he held a huge flashing sign above his head that reads _Oh SHIT!_

Kazuki sighs. You can take the lightning emperor out of Mugenjou, but you can't take the Ginji out of the emperor.

Akabane notes the unusual pallor, the beads of sweat dotting his temples, the quivering knees, and he frowns slightly. "Ginji-kun...don't tell me that...you're afraid? Of _me_?" he asks, curiosity spiraling his voice up slightly in surprise.

_Does Ban Midou smoke like a chimney?_ Kazuki is thinking, and he's sure a similar answer is written across his friend's face as well.

He is granted another piece of the puzzle when shortly thereafter Akabane's expression segues into a subtle but profound hurt. It reminds Kazuki of the time he and the others went to Mugenjou to discover the truth behind Masaki's betrayal, and the group, most notably Ginji, had literally left Akabane behind in the dust. The transporter had tagged along anyway, but not before letting slip a rare show of emotion evoked by the purposeful abandonment.

It had been more than disappointment at the loss of potential conflict. Akabane had seemed...lost, confused. Ginji, like it or not, possesses an infinite benevolence capable of taming even the savage heart of Doctor Jackal.

Granted, Kazuki can't blame his friend for being terrified of Akabane's fondness for blades, and the willing ease with which he dispenses them. But if Ginji could only overcome his fear and learn how to turn this facet to his advantage – a uniquely innocent manipulative ability which Kazuki strongly suspects is how the former Volts leader is so able to convince his friends, himself included, into going along with even the most harebrained of schemes – he would have a very powerful and loyal ally indeed.

In the street, Akabane sighs again, shoulders drooping, and his head lowers slightly. Kazuki imagines that this is one rejection the pale man isn't able to take so lightly, despite his controlled demeanor. "Why, Ginji-kun? I don't understand," Akabane says, sounding genuinely puzzled. "Have I committed some grievous sin against you, that you should hate me so?"

Ginji twitches. "I don't hate you," he mumbles.

"Then why do you always avoid me whenever we're alone together?"

Ginji stands silent for a few minutes, shivering, as he fumbles for an answer that hopefully won't earn him a bloody barrage of scalpels. "You're scary, Akabane-san," he blurts. "I'm sorry, but it's true. I don't want to fight you, and I know that fighting is what you like doing best. But I can't do that, not like you."

Akabane tilts his head, regarding Ginji with a curious stare. "It's the hat, isn't it?" he says. Then, to both Ginji's and Kazuki's surprise, he slowly, carefully raises his hand up to it and removes the forbidding black object. Loose waves of silky black hair tumble free, revealing the man's face in its entirety. Without it, Akabane appears somehow vulnerable, as if the absence of that covering has deprived him of an important part of armor.

He takes a step towards Ginji again. "It's just a hat, Ginji-kun," Akabane says softly, holding it out for him to see. "Am I less scary, then, not wearing it?"

Ginji studies the hat, then flicks a glance at the other man.

Akabane smiles. "It's true that I would very much like to battle Raitei again someday. But I have never attacked you without reason, no?"

"There was that platinum mission – "

"Ah, but that was merely business, Ginji-kun. And we are not enemies now, are we?"

"...I guess not..."

"I quite enjoyed being your partner on the IL mission. Even though you did bore me by getting us lost," Akabane adds with a shade of chastisement before his tone turns sweet again. "Truly, though, I find great pleasure in your company, Ginji-kun, regardless of which side of a mission either of us happens to be on."

"That's just it, Akabane-san," Ginji says, frustration darkening his voice. "I can't – I can't just switch sides around all the time like you can. I can't be all creepy and spooky and hide in the dark like you do. I know what's right and what's wrong, and I have to do what's right. And what's right for me is that I don't kill the opponent just for the fun of it, because I can. Life is more than that."

Akabane's gaze becomes solemn. "Ginji-kun," he says, his voice a velvety purr. "I'm not asking you to change who you are. I'm only asking that you hear me out." He clasps his hat to his chest. "I blend with the shadows because it is my job. It is what I happen to be most talented at, just as you are expert at wielding your lightning. I don't expect you to understand why I do what I do," he says, lowering his eyes for a moment. "This world is not for the faint of heart, or the weak of spirit. But I admire your persistence." Purple eyes relax back to Ginji's curious brown ones. "You and Midou-kun and I, we must be strong to survive in it. We face monsters every day, but we often never realize it."

Still clutching his hat, the transporter comes closer, and for once Ginji stands his ground. "When you were but a boy, Ginji-kun, you had many fears then too, did you not?"

"Well, yeah."

"And what did you do to defeat those fears?"

Ginji's face changes to fond remembrance. "I had Teshimine. He was always there to take care of me," he says wistfully.

Akabane nods. "This Teshimine-san, he was good to you? Protected you, nurtured you, guided you towards your path?"

"Yeah. Teshimine...I don't remember ever _not_ living in Mugenjou," Ginji says, eyes clouding over. "Aside from Ban-chan, that is. But Teshimine, he was the first person I saw when I woke up one night all by myself in the dark." Ginji shifts from one foot to another. "I was really scared...until he told me that it was okay, that he would teach me how to live in the fortress. And he did." Ginji smiles. "He taught me lots of stuff."

Akabane's smile matches his. "There, you see? Monsters are not so scary when you have light to shine upon them."

How true, Kazuki thinks. In a way, even Ginji is his own light. His gentle, sweet-natured personality attracts like-minded people, and has a way of inspiring former undesirables like Ban and Shido to transform their belligerence and aggression into higher qualities even they themselves might not have believed to possess. Because of Ginji, Kazuki felt called to dissolve the gang he was once a part of, the oath-bound brotherhood Saizou, Juubei and Toshiki had created, and instead serve beneath the banner of a lightning lord, where he felt his skills could be more effective.

Because of Ginji, a wild jackal is learning to live amongst the civilized again.

Having been talked out of fleeing for the time being, the one-time emperor has allowed his curiosity free reign, and is no longer shying away from his supposed nemesis. He studies the hat, then looks at Akabane and asks the question that's been on everyone's mind since day one. "Akabane-san...why _do_ you wear that thing all the time?"

Akabane smiles, apparently not at all offended by the questioning of his taste in headgear. That, or he's heard it so many times before he probably figures it's pointless to become visibly annoyed by it. "Because I like it. And it is excellent for keeping the elements out of my face. Did you know, Ginji-kun, that the wearing of hats is recommended by dermatologists, in order to protect one's facial skin from the harmful rays of sunlight?"

Ginji shrugs, peering closer at the hat. As if anticipating the question to come next, Akabane offers it with an outstretched hand, and Ginji slowly, carefully takes the black hat from him, turning it over in his hands as he runs his fingers along the wide brim, examining it. "Ban-chan had a hat similar to this one once," he remarks. "Except it wasn't all black. It was a straw one." He cocks his head, considering. "It looked kinda neat on him. But Ban-chan doesn't usually like wearing hats. He says they mess up his hair."

Another pause, as a nugget of memory suddenly jolts Ginji. "We did a professional photo shoot once, as part of a case, and the photographer had us dress up in these weird clothes. We looked like rock stars," Ginji giggles. "In one of the pictures, Ban-chan has this cool-looking floppy black hat on. I think he kind of liked it, because he asked if he could keep it and the photographer said yes. I don't know why he bothered, though," Ginji adds. "He never wears it."

Akabane is rapt with fascination at hearing this tale. "Really? How interesting. I think Midou-kun would look very dashing with a hat," he says.

Ginji gives him a cautious smile. "We got copies of the shoot when we were done. I could show you some of them, if you'd like, Akabane-san..."

Is it possible for Doctor Jackal's smile to be any brighter than light itself? Kazuki watches as sunshine warmth blossoms on Akabane's face at the thought of being granted this intimate gift. "I would like that very much, Ginji-kun," the transporter answers softly.

Ginji's smile extends further, visibly relaxing now that he realizes they've established a common ground. It may take him a while, but Kazuki thinks that with patience, experience, and a whole lot of luck, even his friend can grasp and apply the basics of Jackal-taming.

Ginji goes to hand the hat back to Akabane, and as he does so he suddenly spots something on the ground. "Hey! I think this is it!" He stoops and peels an eight-by-ten sheet off of a pile of dryer lint. "Akabane-san! Look!"

Akabane peers at it as he replaces his hat on his head. It's somewhat crinkled and dusty, but otherwise none the worse for wear. "This is the item you were requested to retrieve, then?"

"Yeah! How about that? I found it, and I wasn't even looking for it!" Ginji is inordinately pleased with himself, and Kazuki has to marvel. Life has a funny way of working out in the former Emperor's favor, whether he consciously invokes it or not. It's an enviable ability, and if Ginji ever figured out a way to bottle and market it, the Get Backers would surely never go hungry again.

Akabane claps his hands together in a little show of delight. "That's wonderful, Ginji-kun. Midou-kun will be very happy to hear that you two will be paid, I'm certain." They both share a knowing grin at that, each well aware of Ban's brusque stance towards obtaining funds from a client.

They start to head back down the alley, and Akabane notices that Ginji's knee is still bleeding. It's not a large gash, but the line is steadily leaking a trail of red that makes the wound appear worse than it actually is. "Ginji-kun, may I?" Akabane asks solemnly, gesturing at the injury.

Ginji stops, thinking it over for a few seconds. "Okay," he hedges. "You won't use any knives on me, will you?" he pleads.

"I promise not to use any scalpels unless absolutely necessary. I might have to remove any debris that could have gotten into the wound," Akabane says.

Ginji sits down on a wooden crate to allow him to inspect the wound. Kneeling before him, Akabane carefully takes hold of Ginji's knee and studies the cut. Kazuki is struck by how precise and calm the pale man is in his actions. He's heard it said in some circles that Doctor Jackal really was once a physician; why a healer would shift from preserving life to taking it is a peculiar if chilling mystery. But then he supposes Ban Midou probably knows more about that than he's telling, too. Kazuki makes a mental note to ask Juubei about this at some point later. Being a practitioner himself, perhaps Juubei would have some new insight as to what could have prompted Akabane to renounce medicine in favor of death.

Akabane reaches into a pocket of his coat and withdraws a cleansing wipe, which he uses to remove the blood and dirt surrounding the wound. After cleaning it, he brings forth a bandage and affixes this to Ginji's knee, patting it gently as a final touch. "There you go, Ginji-kun. It's not serious and it should be washed more thoroughly once you return home, but for now, this will help keep it from becoming infected."

Ginji looks at it, then at Akabane. "Thanks, Akabane-san." He hesitates. "You're really good at this. Are you a doctor, you know, not like Doctor Jackal, but the real kind? Like in hospitals?"

Akabane gazes at him for a long time before slowly looking away, down at the ground. His face is an impassive mask. "I was," he replies quietly.

Ginji frowns slightly. "How come you gave it up?"

Silence stretches out between them like a vast desert of loss, and Kazuki has the distinct impression that it's a reflection of the inner emptiness which has consumed Akabane Kuroudo for what must seem like endless ages. He has the feeling that the silence speaks more volumes than anyone cares to admit to; its very presence hints of something in the past that is so terrible not even a man dedicated to strength and will, such as Jackal, can withstand its brutal memory.

Finally Akabane looks up at Ginji, his face betraying nothing of his inner thoughts...but for a flicker of recalled anguish that lurks in the background of amethyst, haunting those eyes like shadows beneath a lake. "It's a long story, Ginji-kun," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ginji nods, accepting this as simple answer. Kazuki finds himself praying that for once Raitei will temporarily take reign and show his alter self the right path – for all his faults, Raitei is sometimes the best person to handle a situation, as he well understands a certain kind of pain. Ginji's instinctual response to someone else's hurting is to offer comfort, the sudden cocoon of a friendly hug or kind word. But to a man like Doctor Jackal, such pity is anathema and likely to spark off a wildstorm of violence as a defense against the resurgent emotion evoked by remembrance.

No, what Akabane needs right now is just a voice, someone to hear him out, as he put it a few minutes ago, to know that while he does not expect nor ask for forgiveness, there might at least be understanding.

Kazuki is reminded of the day he and Juubei fought each other in Makubex's virtual prison, and suddenly has to blink back a hot rush of tears. Juubei had not asked for quarter either. Only Kazuki's acceptance of why things were the way they were at the time.

Amazingly, fate yet again intervenes in Ginji's favor. The grave cast in those brown eyes signals a brief switch to the maturity Ginji doesn't usually display except to those who know him from days long since past. "You can tell it to me, if you ever want to, Akabane-san. I'll listen," he says.

Kazuki has the uncanny sense that a bizarre sort of awareness is passing between them. Something that is beyond the ken of most ordinary people but that only those finely attuned to this world...and the next...might be able to pick up on. Akabane nods slowly after a few moments, and shutters his expression behind a benign smile as he rises to his feet. "Thank you, Ginji-kun." The words are uttered almost reverently, as if offered up in a prayer of sincere gratitude to divine audience.

Ginji too retreats to a more familiar costume, that of happy-go-lucky innocent. He breaks into a grin as he holds the picture aloft. "Ban-chan's gonna be so surprised when we tell him we got the picture back!"

"'We,' Ginji-kun?" Akabane questions. "You are the one who found it."

Ginji stands up, self-consciously kicking at a stone in the ground. "You...sorta helped," he says. "I mean, if you hadn't come to talk to me, I never would have noticed it there in the first place."

"Hm. I suppose that's true," Akabane says, his subtle amusement returning to its usual good humor. "Well, then. If it would please you, Ginji-kun, I would be happy to return the photo to its rightful owner while you inform Midou-kun of your success. That way the Get Backers will receive their money that much faster. No?"

"You'd do that for us, Akabane-san?"

Akabane beams at him. "It's my pleasure."

Ginji gives him the picture and reels off the name and address of their client. "Thanks, Akabane-san. I'll tell Ban-chan to make sure you get some of the money too. It's only fair."

Akabane shakes his head, tucking the picture into the breast side of his coat as he begins to drift in black ether in the opposite direction. "No need, Ginji-kun. Consider this a favor from one professional to another. Besides," he adds with a mischievous wink at Ginji, "I have other methods of payment that I could get from Midou-kun." And with one last enigmatic smile, he turns and melts into the surrounding shadows as easily and swiftly as evening mist.

Kazuki waits for a minute or two, then after reeling in his string makes his way down to the streets below. Ginji is still standing where he was left, watching the space where Akabane used to be.

His friend glances at him, having heard Kazuki's approach. "Maybe," Ginji says after a moment, "Akabane-san isn't so bad after all..." He stops to think. "Maybe when he's being around people he trusts, people that trust him, he doesn't feel so...cold, anymore, and it's easier for him to be normal..."

"Mugenjou is a place for lonely people to gather," Kazuki says, thinking of a lost little girl trapped inside that endless fortress with no recourse other than inner escape. He and Toshiki have tried to keep in touch with Ren Radou, knowing how much she – and others like her – need that hope to hold on to.

Ginji nods. "Akabane-san...Kazu-chan, I think that's what brought him and Ban-chan together. They're lonely people, but their loneliness is somehow connected to each other..."

Ah, the ties that bind...and sometimes gag, Kazuki thinks. Another part of the puzzle that falls into tempting alignment. Akabane wears a cloak of aloneness so potent it fits him much like the skirts of his long trenchcoat. Somehow Ban Midou, whose own solitude is flashed cockily about like the sunglasses he sports, has managed to weave a spell of enchantment capable of penetrating the Jackal's barren fortress of a heart.

Kazuki would bet twice Midou's car's weight in yen that the sorcerer had never expected to fall victim to his own magic.

--

The young woman trudges along the sidewalk, battered but not beaten. Dust cloaks her almost as heavily as the shroud of disgust she wears, for though the work's take has been most profitable, it's also come at a heavy price. Such is the life of a transporter, that most disliked yet sought-after serviceperson in the fields rich with retrievers and protectors.

It's not been a good day for Himiko Kudou. Kazuki feels bad for the girl as she stumbles on a loose chunk of concrete and curses softly, kicking the offending stone out of her path. Himiko is one with honor, her own sense of ethics, which she does not deviate from despite the high cost to her own person. In a way she almost reminds him of Juubei, whose strict adherence to a code of principles kept Kazuki alive but robbed the samurai descendant of his sight.

Himiko reaches a spot on the sidewalk that's been corralled off by construction fencing. City crews have chosen a main to replace in this area, and have torn up a section of the walkway to get to it. If she weren't feeling so irritable she might have chosen to go around it, but tonight is not that night, and she withdraws a vial of perfume. Several steaming fumes later, the wire fencing has dissolved like ashes in water, and Himiko is nimbly stepping her way through the construction to get back on her route.

Kazuki smiles as he follows the same path. No, she reminds him more of Toshiki. Steadfast in her commitment, and very passionate in her fury.

Perhaps that's why Akabane finds her attractive in his own way. He is reserved, and controlled, and is markedly dispassionate in his dealings, so they complement each other well. Kazuki falls back to shadow as a lean black form materializes out of the dark nearby.

"Good evening, Lady Poison."

Himiko stops, glancing over to a streetlight where Akabane is stepping into view. "Jackal. What are you doing here?" she asks, only mild curiosity apparent in her tone. Evidently she is used to him appearing without warning around her and the place she calls home.

Akabane tips his hat. "I was on my way home from grocery shopping." He holds up a small bag he's carrying. "Midou-kun wanted some ingredients for stew."

"So he sends you out to deal with it," Himiko says. "Typical Ban, mooching food off of others."

Akabane shrugs. "Well...I _am_ a transporter," he says with a light chuckle.

"He complains about your cooking while he's stuffing his face the whole time too, doesn't he?"

Akabane's chuckle grows deeper. "Oh no, Midou-kun knows better than that," he says slyly, waggling a scalpel between his fingertips.

Himiko's lips quirk as if ready to smile with him, but the dreariness of tonight's escapades still weighs too heavily on her shoulders for her to take the intended humor with any amusement. She nods at him and starts to walk away. "I hope you two enjoy it, then. Good night."

Akabane trails after her, the ends of his coat swirling around his ankles noiselessly. "Himiko-san? Is everything all right?" he inquires solicitously. "You seem...distracted."

Himiko keeps walking. "I'm fine," she answers flatly, weariness underscoring her voice. "I just got finished with a tough job."

"Mm," Akabane replies, continuing to drift behind her. "I hope it was an interesting one, at least. There's nothing worse than being contracted for an insufferably dull assignment."

"Oh, it was interesting, all right," Himiko says sourly. She pauses to allow him to catch up to her side before moving on. "You wouldn't have liked it though. Varlou was there."

Kazuki rather wishes there was another streetlight nearby so he could see the expression on Akabane's face. The transporter's tone, when he speaks, sounds as though he's just discovered he's accidentally stepped in dog droppings. "I _see._ What, pray tell, was _he_ doing in town?"

"What else? Looking to steal all the good jobs like he always does," Himiko mutters. She casts a knowing look at her companion. "And to track you down so he can ask you out on another date, as usual. You'll be happy to know that I took great pleasure in telling him you have a boyfriend now."

Akabane seems pleased by this. "And what did he say after you told him about my Midou-kun?"

Kazuki doesn't miss the possessive affection with which the pale man refers to his lover. Akabane Kuroudo appears to be many things, not the least of which is utterly devoted to his chosen mate...and to his fellow transporter. It isn't the first time that Kazuki has noticed the peculiar, even playful, rapport between the two and finds it curious that Himiko actually seems to like being with him, in an understated way. She tolerates his habits, and lets his eccentricities pass by her like the currents of scent she wields as her weapon. For his part, Akabane respects her capabilities and remains content to let her direct the show – so long as his own interests are in turn respected.

Himiko snorts, a most unladylike noise, but one that is forgivable considering her current circumstances. "He said that you'd change your mind eventually and come crawling back to him after you got bored with your 'boy toy.'"

There is a brief silence, during which Jackal is considering his words. In precise, clipped phrasing spoken with no more emotion than if he were discussing the weather, he says, "One day I am going to kill that perverted peacock."

"I'm surprised you haven't already done it."

Jackal sighs. "Sadly, fate is not yet kind enough to grant me that crossing, it seems. So close, and yet so far..."

Himiko growls. "If you don't, eventually _I _will. That bastard cost me a lot of money tonight." Her fist tightens around the vial of erosion perfume she's still holding in her hand.

Akabane adjusts his hat and Kazuki can hear the frown in his voice. "Made off with the transport item again, did he?"

"Almost. But he made me look like a fool in front of the client, and wrecked my motorcycle during the chase when I tried to stop him," Himiko snarls. "That's why I'm walking tonight. It's going to be several weeks before my bike comes out of the repair shop. The damage is too extensive for me to fix by myself. Thank God I've still got my brother's old car."

"My, my. I think I shall have to have a little _chat _with dear Varlou the next time I see him," Akabane murmurs, ice ridging the edges of his words. Kazuki wonders who this man Varlou is – perhaps he is a rival transporter from the descriptions – and almost pities him for the wrath he's earned from both Doctor Jackal and Lady Poison.

Himiko continues, her anger sparked anew by the memories. "And then, as if that wasn't enough, Varlou had the nerve to comment about my supposed lack of professionalism because I was 'just another hysterical female out to prove something'! I threw flame perfume in his face, but he was too far upwind for it to have done any real damage."

"Remind me next time we meet him. I will loan you a few scalpels," Akabane recommends. "It will be easier to dose an immobile patient, hmm?"

Himiko laughs, but there's more bitterness in it than actual amusement. "Better not. The way things seem to be going, I'm liable to use those to slice off vital body parts. Smug bastard sounded just like that teenaged brat that Ban had me drag around on my bike once," she gripes, more to herself now rather than her dark companion.

She puts away the perfume vial and her voice takes on an exaggerated pitch as she mimics the gossipy tone of youth. "'You're that kind of shrewish girl nobody wants around!'" Her voice switches to a deeper sound, imitating a man's tone. "'Face it, pet, you don't have what it takes to make it in this business.'" In these mockeries of her detractors, the rage and hurt are clearly glimpsed, and pointedly emphasized when Himiko savagely kicks a stray stone out of her path.

Kazuki can understand such frustration. He deals with it all the time, looking the way he does. Honest mistakes are one thing; purposeful ignorance another. He knows he shouldn't take such misassumptions to heart, knows that much of the taunting that he gets is done by others who are secretly insecure about their own selves. But that's little comfort to the flash of irritation he feels every time he has to correct someone as to his true gender. His endurance to endless barbs concerning his schooling as heir to the Fuuchouin legacy is not quite as steadfast as he would like it to be.

For Himiko, it must be doubly worse. Even in a supposed age of enlightenment, women are still considered the default for weakness. She has had to struggle very hard, and fight tooth, claw and nail for what she has accomplished, not just as a transporter (and surely that profession is as male-dominated as any other risk-fraught job) but as a human being also. It means something to her, to be able to handle challenges and remain true to her inner principles.

Perhaps that's why she and Akabane get along so well. She is someone who understands obsessions and temptations only too well, and he admires courage that is so rarely found, as befitting a worthy fighter. Or ally. They both desire confrontation of a sort, and this shared need has led to a unique bond, a consummation of like minds, and so they think nothing of dancing with death each time one enters the other's orbit.

Still lurking in the shadows wherever they provide shelter, aided by his threads, Kazuki continues his surveillance. They turn a corner and come to a stretch of road leading down a dead end. "I can get home by myself, Akabane," Himiko says. "Thanks for hearing me out tonight."

"You're quite welcome. But I don't mind escorting you home, Himiko-san."

"It's not necessary."

Akabane remains firm. "Nonetheless. I would be remiss if I did not see you safely to your door."

Himiko sighs but says nothing more, the sound of her exhaled breath conveying a weary acceptance of his habitual display of gentlemanly behavior.

A few steps into their path, and Akabane speaks, his voice soft and slow as it flows with honeyed smoothness. "You know, Himiko-san...they say that adversity breeds the most beautiful and hardy of flowers. I've always thought that to be a trite commentary offered as scant reassurance to those who are suffering. But, perhaps, even cliches do have a measure of truth to them sometimes." He pauses, noting the look she gives him. "I would never have asked to work with you if I had thought for one moment that you were of an inferior caliber. You would long since have been dead if that were the case."

"By yours or someone else's hand?" Himiko says wryly.

Akabane chuckles. "Your choice, my Lady." He turns serious again. "No, there is strength in you that is rare in others, and I must confess, I quite look forward to seeing it evolve. So seldom do I encounter beings who can live up to my hopes and expectations," he sighs, possibly in wistful recollection of his tussles with Ginji. He casts her a glance that, from his distance, Kazuki finds intriguing as he tries to decipher its true intent, the meaning behind the strangely paternal affection inherent in Dr. Jackal's gaze. "You're the only other one who understands what it's like, really."

Himiko doesn't seem to know what to make of this, a rarely-glimpsed personal confession. That she is deeply touched by this vote of confidence becomes apparent when she impulsively lays a hand on a black-clad arm. "Thank you, Akabane," she says quietly.

He smiles, perhaps a bit sadly. "It's the truth."

"I mean it," Himiko says, an earnest quality underlying in her voice. "You – you and Maguruma – you're the only ones who ever gave me a chance. That means more to me than you'll ever know."

He nods. "I understand what it is to fight, Himiko-san. More than you will ever realize, I assure you."

Himiko starts to say something and closes her mouth, taking a moment to think on her words before picking them. When she does speak it comes quietly, haltingly, as she tries to piece her thoughts together. "The Threadmaster, Fuuchouin Kazuki – I heard him say something when we went to Mugenjou once. That everyone who was called to that place was fighting – fighting for a reason known only to each person. But no matter what the reason, the intent behind it was the same. To find a place where we all belong." She shrugs, seeming embarrassed by her philosophizing. "I just thought that was interesting."

Akabane smiles, an unreadable expression this time. "So it is. The threadmaster is right, of course. Everyone ought to enjoy what makes them feel most alive. Hmm?"

They come to a building that from the outside appears as nothing more than another warehouse, and Kazuki is unable to go any further than several buildings away, for fear of risking discovery. A thread sails through the night, and he is assured of keeping up with the conversation. This is where Himiko lives.

She withdraws a set of keys from her bandolier and unlocks the front door. "Why do you fight, Akabane?" she asks, the question so direct as to be almost rude.

The smile stays set in the pale man's face as he remains unaffected by her boldness. "Come now, Himiko-san," he chuckles. "You know the answer to that."

"I know why you _kill,"_ Himiko says darkly. "I've just always been curious as to why you _fight."_

"Mmmm." Akabane adjusts his hat, keeping one hand on the brim and the other in the pocket of his coat. He doesn't appear inclined to give a response right away.

Himiko pauses with her hand on the doorknob, not yet opening the entry. "I did it at first because I had to. I wasn't going to let my brother be just another forgotten memory. That hasn't changed," she adds, somewhat sharply, as if worried her words might imply dismissal of her initial goal. "I _will_ find out why Yamato was cursed, why Ban felt he had to betray us, and when I do, I swear to you that the rampage I'll go on will make one of your jaunts look like child's play."

Doctor Jackal's smile widens, a flickering of approval – or the arousal of bloodlust. "Indeed. I shall be most gratified to witness that, Himiko-san," he murmurs.

She doesn't return the smile, but her face loses some of its harshness. "Now...I fight because I want to. I enjoy it," she admits. "I'm a professional, and I'm damn good in this business. Showing up idiots like Varlou is just part of it." She continues, ignoring the hum of agreement coming from her sometime work partner. "I do it because I need to. Because it serves a purpose. The Kakeis – Juubei and Sakura – I think that's why they do what they do also. They need something, someone to believe in. And I do too."

Himiko stops, lowering her gaze as if seeing something only visible to her. "I do this because I'm still searching for what I've lost, what the world tries to take from me every day I'm out there putting my name and my life on the line," she says softly, and turns to open the door.

Akabane speaks then, a rustle of low voice borne aloft on the light breeze. "I believe, Himiko-san, that you have just answered your own question."

With a tipping of hat, he makes a little bow and turns to leave. "Good night, Himiko-san. I bid you a pleasant evening."

She watches him as he leaves, thoughtfulness mixed with a kind of concern as she dwells on his words. When he is long gone she suddenly calls out to the night.

"You can come out now, Threadmaster."

His cover blown, startled at how easily she discovered he was lurking nearby, Kazuki is tempted to instead make a run for it but quickly discards that option. That would be the act of a coward, and in her semi-agitated state Himiko might be tempted to pursue him for a fight, something neither of them needs. He sighs, winds in his string, and goes to meet the mistress of poisons.

"How did you guess?"

"Juubei goes heavy on the cologne, doesn't he?" Himiko says without rancor.

"Err, yes, but – "

"I'm a scent-user, remember? I smelled you way back by the north side of town," Himiko tells him.

Kazuki's brow lifts in surprise. He hadn't thought he was that close. "Why did you – "

"Let you follow me?" She shrugs. "I figured you had your reasons. And I'm too tired to argue over the fact." Her shoulders slump then and weariness overtakes her face, as she is finally able to drop the mask of imperturbability she must wear in order to avoid being targeted as easy prey in the dangerous underworld. Interestingly, this fatigue makes her seem much younger, and Kazuki is reminded of how he, too, had had to shoulder an immense burden of adulthood at such a young age when his family was murdered.

"I'm sorry, Himiko-san. I really didn't mean to intrude," Kazuki says. "I do have my reasons, but they're of no harm to you, I assure you. Call it professional curiosity."

"It's all right." She looks about to ask him something, but keeps silent, perhaps not wishing to pursue the subject for fear of unpleasant discoveries she isn't prepared to deal with just yet.

Kazuki mulls his next words, wanting not only to garner information but to avoid inadvertently offending her by mistakenly giving the wrong impression. "Himiko-san, if I may...I couldn't help but wonder by what you meant when you mentioned a difference between killing and fighting to Doctor Jackal. Aren't they one and the same to him?"

Himiko lowers her gaze, collecting herself again. There is a strange bond amidst transporter folk, Kazuki has noticed of late. They are bidden to no one but clients, and even then there are limitations to that loyalty. Their simple creed would appear to be that of a mercenary's, if it wasn't for the fact that this particular trio – Himiko, Akabane and the driver known as No-Brakes Maguruma – exhibit an unusual and touching camaraderie. They look out for each other, and as such Himiko is reluctant to break the confidence granted her by her fellow transporter, as if daring to speak openly of it is in itself an act of discredit against the honor that she meticulously tends.

Fear of loss – of friendship, of family – no terror strikes as deeply or as viciously at the human heart as this. It's clear from her silence that, aside from her questionable ties with Ban Midou, Himiko regards her transporting comrades as close a kin as any, absence of blood relations regardless.

Deciding at last that his question is a futile effort Kazuki nods as acknowledgment of her unwillingness to speak, and starts to walk away. He gets several steps away before he hears a quiet voice.

"They are and they aren't. He acts so inhuman most of the time that he's come to think of himself that way. But...Akabane isn't completely unfeeling. He's just very...subtle, in the way that he expresses emotion. He hates losing that control because he thinks it's weak. And in the circles we run...weakness means signing your own death warrant."

Kazuki faces Himiko. She looks torn between the need to guard her secrets and the desire to clarify her intentions behind their safekeeping. "You don't like what he does," he states. "But you care for him, or for his welfare, at least."

She slowly shakes her head. "It does something to him, whether he'll admit it or not, every time he kills needlessly. He warned me himself once, never to get in his way. I suppose...I suppose it was his way of...protecting me."

She pauses and looks up at the endless night sky, and it's then that Kazuki realizes from the rapid blinking of her lashes that she's trying to keep from crying – herself unwilling to sacrifice control for an emotional bloodletting. "He's saved my life more times than I can count, always given me the best advice on the job that he could. For all his coldhearted exterior, he's still been more human to me than most of the thugs I've had to put up with while working as a transporter." She quivers slightly, struggling to hold herself in check. "It makes me wonder sometimes, what sort of hell he went through to have given up so completely on life to focus on death."

She looks directly at Kazuki. "Ginji called it right when he accused me of taking out my pain on Ban. 'The eyes of someone who's been beaten by a cold rain,' he called it." She bites her lower lip and the effect gives her even more of a wretched innocence. "Akabane has the same eyes."

Kazuki doesn't know what to say. Anything he could offer at this point would seem a cheap and meaningless comfort, but he doesn't want to seem as though he's completely disregarding Himiko's confession. "It can't be all bad," he ventures. "Midou-san seems to have had some sort of nullifying effect on him. So has Ginji-san. From what I understand, Doctor Jackal hasn't taken his share of bloodshed in a long time. So surely there must be hope..."

"Maybe," she says, not looking at him.

Hope is sometimes all that one ever has, Kazuki thinks. But he doesn't say this out loud. He thanks Himiko for her counsel and wishes her a good night.

As he's taking his leave he happens to spot Sirius in the sky, noting with somber reflection how it glistens in the eternal horizon. Just like the dogstar shines tirelessly, surely those closest to Akabane Kuroudo cast their faithful candlelights amidst the backdrop of his dark persona, hoping that their efforts will lead a broken man home to a promise of life.

--

This mission has, as a certain serpentine-inclined man would put it, been "fucked up beyond all reason."

Oh, they were able to locate the target objects – four sacred canopic jars belonging to a collector of ancient Egyptian artifacts, and pilfered by a rival curator – but the actual retrieval proved to be more of a challenge than any of them had bargained for, and they've only managed to obtain three of the jars before being forced to abandon the last for safety's sake. If not for Kazuki's strings, Ginji's lightning, and Akabane's scalpels, doubtless the lot of them would currently be in worse straits than fleeing a very determined – and furious – protection service, whose casualties already include the last canopic jar.

The guards are gaining ground all the time, and Kazuki estimates that they've only used a third of their formidable weaponry. Ordinarily this wouldn't be cause for alarm, as the Get Backers have faced gunfire many times and come out none the worse for wear, but this is an exception: goons with guns provided by questionable sources and whose dozens of numbers count the mountain of Undead Hishiki among them point to a decidedly unfavorable outcome. Discretion is the better part of valor, and part of Ban Midou's battle-genius comes from recognizing when it's better to beat a fast retreat than stay and put up a fight.

By tacit agreement, he and Kazuki survey the room they've ducked into for hiding places. Ginji immediately balks once he realizes the ones they've chosen.

"No way, Ban-chan! That's gross!"

"Shut up and get in the sarcophagus, Ginji!"

"Ban-chan! There were dead rotting things in those!"

"And there's gonna be a dead rotting eel to join 'em if you don't squeeze your ass into that casket right the hell now, sparky," Ban barks. "We can't take this bunch head-on, we have to ride it out from shelter."

Ginji starts to complain again, but one blistering glare from his partner makes him reluctantly change his mind. Grumbling to himself, he clambers inside the sarcophagus and waits for Ban to heave the lid not quite shut – to allow for the passage of air – on top of him.

With the argument thus settled, Kazuki realizes something else that's wrong. He glances over and sees Akabane looking paler than usual. Kazuki is confused until he notices where the transporter is looking, and he can't repress a shudder of his own as he studies the yawning pits of the ancients' final resting places. Still, it's odd that one so used to dealing death should find these crypts unsettling – but then, Kazuki supposes, doctors don't usually enjoy tasting their own bitter medicines either.

Ban shoves the lid of the last sarcophagus open and looks at his lover. "Your turn. Get in the box, Jackal."

"No."

Blue eyes blink slowly, furiously. Kazuki can feel their time slipping away like the grains in an hourglass, and he shifts from one foot to another as he waits to see how Midou will handle the situation. "Don't you start this shit too. Come on, Akabane," Ban says, injecting a measure of exasperated affection into his voice in an effort to encourage cooperation.

It's for naught, since Akabane doesn't seem inclined to agree. His jaw lifts and purple eyes narrow. "We can fight them," he insists with calm steel.

"No, we can't! Didn't you just hear what I told Ginji?"

Akabane's eyes narrow further as he plants his feet firmly on the floor in a defensive stance. "Then you stay here, and _I_ will fight them," he says, turning back to confront their pursuers.

"The hell you will!" Ban moves suddenly, faster than Kazuki had thought possible for him, and grabs Akabane's arm to drag him along. Purple eyes flare with alarm and Akabane resists, digging his heels into the floor and clawing at Ban's hand in a futile attempt to pry him off.

"Midou-kun!"

"_Now,_ Jackal!"

_"No!"_

Kazuki's ear twitches at the plaintive cry. Akabane isn't just being obstinate in response to a denial of his usual antics; there is something more to his stubborn refusal to obey the order. A peculiar fear, the threadmaster realizes as he watches the lovers' struggle become violent. But of what?

Ban's patience has long since flown out the window. "Jackal!" he snarls, slamming his right hand onto the back of Akabane's neck. He squeezes, or twists, Kazuki's not quite certain – but whatever it is he does, Akabane suddenly utters a strangled cry that's abruptly cut off and falls limply into Ban's arms like an oversized rag doll. Ban effortlessly scoops him up, hat and all, and shoots Kazuki a glare that needs no explanation.

Kazuki is already squirming into a sarcophagus, not needing to be told to hurry. Already down the hallway they can hear the faint echoes of search activity heading in this direction.

They wait for what seems like an eternity for the pounding feet and snarls of voices to fade into silence, experiencing a brief seizure of genuine terror when a few of the guards, led by Hishiki, opt to conduct a brief check of this room. Kazuki hopes that the ageless stone shielding the retrievers' group, having survived the vicious desert elements and mankind's efforts to subdue it, remains capable of withstanding even armor-piercing rounds fired from prototype super-weapons.

"I can smell them. Dirty punks are here somewhere," Hishiki growls from the pit of his throat, a fearsome mass of brute. Ginji had described it in colorful, quavering detail, but until he'd seen what the guardian could do with those meat-shank-fists – and that had been_ after_ Ginji had electrocuted him – twice! - Kazuki had found it mysterious as to why even the great Ban Midou would seek to avoid confrontation with him.

"Nothing in here but a bunch of stiffs," says one guard, snorting at his own witticism. "Looks like just a storage room for spare display pieces."

The floor trembles slightly and for a second Kazuki thinks it's the beginnings of an earthquake, before that concern is swiftly devoured by a doubly horrifying one: Hishiki is approaching the line of sarcophagi.

"I want them," the huge man grunts. "Those two. Midou and the blond brat. They're _mine,"_ the guardian hisses with hot ferocity. "They think they can beat me, make a fool out of me, they're going to find out otherwise." Knuckles rumble and crack like boulders being separated by jagged knives of lightning; as if Hishiki had needed any more emphasis to his gravelly threat.

In the back of Kazuki's mind, a sense of dry humor – no doubt abetted by Juubei's influence – points out that Ban has quite the dishonor roll of people whose shit list he's on. They need a diversion, fast, before Hishiki's obsession drives him to start pulverizing the nearest inanimate objects as outlet for his frustration – and with them, four very _un_dead bodies within these stone caskets.

The string slips through the needle-thin space of freedom with nary a snag, and quick and sinuous as a serpent twists its way out of the room. Moments later, a muffled thump is heard elsewhere.

"Down that way!" The ground shakes more virulently this time, as their opponents charge after the source of the noise like hounds scenting a fresh kill. By now Kazuki's string has returned, threading itself in proper coils inside the bell where it normally waits until needed.

There is silence not unlike that of a deathwatch, and just as the confinement is beginning to take its toll in the forms of muted whimpers and stifled fidgeting, Ban declares it safe to exit the sarcophagi and make a break for it. Kazuki hears stone scraping stone as one by one the lids are pushed back, and when his own is removed he scrambles out into fresh air with a grateful gasp. Now he knows how sardines must feel.

"All right, threadspool?"

Kazuki gets his bearings and looks up at Midou. The other man is markedly more disheveled than he was before taking refuge, bleeding scratches and ripped shirt catching notice right away. Ban shrugs it off and looks to Ginji, not waiting for Kazuki's answer. "All right?"

Ginji and Kazuki both stare at him. "Yeah," Ginji says. "What do we do now, Ban-chan?"

Ban starts laying out the remainder of their escape plan – to which Kazuki is only paying marginal attention to, as he's more interested in the fourth member of their party. Akabane is just one shade off from being a full ghostly white; he stands off to the side, far away from the hated tomb, legs quivering as if he's just run a full marathon – or is trying to keep from collapsing to the floor. Purple eyes, large with deep-seated anxiety, dart nervously towards his lover and glaze over in an icy rage. If men truly could die from looks alone, Ban Midou would be nothing but a red smear on the floor in this instant.

The transformation from skittish to feral is shocking in its passion, and Kazuki tenses in anticipation of a scalpel-studded argument. Akabane seems loath to give free reign to his emotions, however, and reels in his fury with all the cold-blooded calculation of a viper awaiting the perfect strike. His posture straightens until his back is ramrod-stiff, thin body strung taut with the kind of professionalism that has nothing to do with cool, polished image and everything to do with retaining a sense of dignity in the face of humiliation. Those expressive eyes narrow into a frigid, immobile glare, and though the familiar smile is conspicuously absent, a flat line of indifference serves as proof that this mission has been anything but amusing for Doctor Jackal.

Now thoroughly frozen over into an icicle of a man, Akabane slides his hands into his coat pockets, and it's then that Kazuki sees what the others do not. He brushes off a tremor of his own as he realizes how close to disaster they had come. If Ban's restraint on his lover had loosened just enough for Akabane to claw his way to freedom, they all might now be facing the same fate as the coffins' predecessors.

The slash of betrayal burning in Akabane's eyes makes Kazuki think that the pale man is not angered merely by the loss of a potentially stimulating fight, however. The good doctor is no stranger to death, so why should he find its instruments particularly terrifying?

Unless – and Kazuki's mind dredges up recollections of things said in his information venues, long-whispered rumors of men who have crossed the ultimate beltline and returned to tell about it...

That, it seems, is a mystery that will have to wait for another time. Ban – who evidently trusts that his lover will catch up in due time – is hauling Ginji out the door and down the hall to another exit. Kazuki tears his gaze away from Akabane and gives chase, the four of them fleeing this sepulchral trap before the guards realize their prey has slipped out beneath their noses.

--

It's a long trek back to their client's to turn over the catch and collect payment, and an even longer one back to the Honky Tonk in order to take stock of their profits and losses. And to briefly reenergize with a steaming cup of Paul's best, perhaps, if the shopkeeper is feeling benevolent this evening. Ban isn't the only one trusting to Paul's softened heart. Kazuki feels the need for piping liquid heat to warm the marrow of his bones. Hiding in that sarcophagus chilled him in more ways than one.

Luck remains amenable to their plight and the group is greeted with fresh sandwiches in addition to the hoped-for coffee. Ban and Ginji gobble theirs down as usual while Ban douses his injuries with some antiseptic courtesy of Paul. Akabane chews his food woodenly, accepting it in the name of polite habit, and Kazuki savors his meal while watching the interaction that's fascinated him since he first took notice of it.

Akabane hasn't thawed any in his attentions toward Ban. Perhaps sensitive to his lover's ire, or more likely is just waiting for privacy to discuss it, Ban appears indifferent to, even unaware of, the other man's quietly simmering fury. Kazuki hasn't missed the way Akabane edges away from Ban if the Jagan master happens to lean closer to him or makes to brush a careless arm near his body.

The doctor's pointed shunning has also been picked up on by Ginji, whose nervousness grows by bounds equaled to those of his bewilderment as to why these two aren't getting along. In compensation for the awkward silence that lumbers overhead like a billowing storm cloud, Ginji increases his flow of chatter as he attempts to draw Ban and Kazuki into the conversation.

Eventually Paul decides he's had enough of those mooching off his goodwill, sensing the brewing maelstrom and doubtless wanting to avoid hosting the damage-derby in his shop. He bluntly tells everyone they'll have to call it a night so he can close up and go home. Grumbling ineffectively but acquiescing with typical grouchy defeat, Ban drags Ginji out of his seat and trudges out the front door.

Kazuki lingers, wanting to follow Akabane so he can continue to observe the other man. When it is safe to fall in step behind Doctor Jackal without risking impalement he makes sure to discreetly check his string's attachment. Juubei would say that this sort of curiosity is better suited to a cat, for whom such has surely proven fatal countless times over, but Kazuki can't help himself. Snooping is as much a part of his nature as is loyalty.

He wants to know what it is that made Akabane Kuroudo, the feared specter of Doctor Jackal himself, submit to that poison which affects all mortals.

Kazuki and Ginji bid each other good night at the entrance to the Get Backers' apartment building, and the threadmaster heads down the sidewalk, taking the usual route to the bus station where he normally picks up a ride to the safehouse he shares with Juubei and Toshiki. But instead of following his path all the way, he quickly looks around to be certain no one is watching, and ducks into an alley to double back.

He counts off beats of time in his head, wanting to give Ginji enough time to haggle with Ban so that he'll exit the picture unmolested and let Kazuki arrive in time to see the aftermath of Ban's and Akabane's spat. With the way Jackal was eyeing Midou over the table, things are liable to turn bloody; add in Raitei or the possibility thereof, and it's an instant recipe for disaster.

Kazuki follows the trail of string left behind, all the way up the sidewalk and into the apartment building, right up the stairs and down the hallway, to its disappearance underneath an unmarked door. A fly on the wall, as it were, and Kazuki kneels and gently takes hold of the string as he settles to listen.

"We need to talk, Jackal." Sounds as though they're in a bedroom, or close to one.

"Do we?" Akabane's voice is cold, smooth, emotionless.

Ban maintains his own composure. "What happened back there in that museum? You knew our odds weren't good. Why did you fight me when you knew I was right?"

"I could have faced them. Instead you insisted on running from them," the words, almost in a sneer, cut sharply through the momentary silence.

"I'm sure you'd have preferred that," Ban agrees noncommittally. "But they wouldn't have given you any challenge, they'd have just blown you away with their guns. Then where would we be?"

Akabane is silent.

Footsteps echo softly, as Ban moves closer. "Akabane..."

"You. Put. Me. In. A. Box." Each word, harsh and ice-cold, is clipped from the pale man's lips with teeth sharper than scissors.

The silence that follows makes Kazuki think that Ban's startled by the uncharacteristic anger expressed in his lover's normally dulcet voice, and when he speaks that impression is further corroborated by the note of frustration that creeps into Ban's tone.

"What's going on here, Jackal? You've been acting strange lately and I don't get why. Is it because of those dreams you've been having?"

No reply is immediately forthcoming, and Kazuki wonders what kind of dreams the Jagan master is talking about, and whether they're anything like the ones he has where he recalls his time – or what he can of it – spent during that perilous foray into Mugenjou's Beltline.

"Akabane." Ban draws from a surprising reserve of tolerance and perseverance. "You have to talk to me. Otherwise I can't give you what it is that you want."

Akabane takes a slow, drawn breath. His voice has dropped further in volume but lost none of its frostiness. "Do you know what it's like to wake up inside a body bag, Midou-kun? In total darkness, the only sound you hear is the blood rushing through your ears."

Bedsprings creak, as if someone's sitting down or shifting position.

"Usually corpses are stored by themselves in the morgue's cold chambers. The 'meat locker,' as it's often called by orderlies." Akabane gives a short, bitter chuckle. "But sometimes, if the body is...messy, they want to keep the remains together, so they pack them inside one of these bags. They're made of strong yet lightweight plastic. They close with a zipper."

Kazuki feels the frostbite raking its teeth on the edges of his heart.

"Each corpse is kept inside an individual storage bin, large enough for an average human form, where the temperature is constantly chilled to prevent further decay. The body lies inside on a retractable metal slab. Like a cabinet drawer that extends to hold files. The door to the bin has a lock on it, and it can only be opened from outside."

The bed creaks again. Ban has taken a seat beside him to hear this bloodcurdling story.

"When I came to, I thought that this was it, that I was in Hell. But I was cold and it was dark, and Hell isn't like that...is it?" Akabane's voice starts to tremble, just a little. "And even if they're sinners, the living don't yet go to Hell, do they?"

"There are many kinds of hell," Ban answers, in a whisper so quiet even Kazuki's thread has trouble picking it up.

"Perhaps you are right. Perhaps this was one of them. I called and I called, but no one would answer. I clawed at the zipper of that bag until my fingernails were in bloody shreds. But I couldn't breathe in there. I had nothing – no clothing, no water – nothing but the faces of the dead to keep me company." Akabane breaks off suddenly, and adds, "Maybe it was Hell after all..."

It sure sounds like it to Kazuki. He tries and fails to hold back the shudder of dread at the thought of being permanently trapped inside such a crypt. His brief refuge inside the sarcophagus at the museum was barely tolerable; Kazuki can only begin to imagine what that terror must have been like for the disoriented Akabane. He's reminded again of the horrors he witnessed in the Beltline and gives way to an uncontrollable shivering.

"...my punishment for sin...but I didn't understand why I wasn't dead. I was in a tomb, I was condemned, but I wasn't dead." The fey voice is underlined with bewilderment, unable to explain the mystery behind his cruel fate, and he sounds increasingly as though he's speaking to himself. "Only dead patients are transported to the morgue. Right?"

"Akabane," Ban says softly, pain lancing each syllable.

"I don't remember dying. I remember...I remember the pain of the sword, the flame of the burning blade...I remember the blood...so much blood, there was...but I don't remember death itself. I could still feel things. I was cold and thirsty and bleeding and sore, and the dead don't have any of those things. Do they?" The transporter's voice cracks, wobbles, as his composure erodes like sand against tide. "That must have meant that I was still alive. And if I was still alive, then – then Babylon had made a mistake..."

The fine hairs dapple the back of Kazuki's neck in alarming frequency, and he senses that Ban is experiencing a similarly sickening sensation. Strange, how fate works. Or maybe not. Always, that faceless pinnacle at the core of Mugenjou finds ways to insinuate itself into everyone's lives, never for any purpose other than malignancy, it seems.

"But they still put me in a box. A _box!_ I am not dead...am I, Midou-kun?" Akabane makes a soft sobbing noise then, the fear and loathing that's leaked into his voice lending an eerie humanity to his cultured tones. "Did you know that Ginji-kun – Raitei - once asked me that in the middle of a fight? He asked if I was just an illusion. But illusions aren't real. They can haunt and they can entice, but they're not alive. Do you know how that feels, Midou-kun?"

Another choked-off sob comes louder now, and another in fast succession; it's difficult to tell whether these are also from fear or borne of anger. Maybe both. "I didn't know what to say! How could I explain to a thunder god what being alive is for me, when I cannot even tell the difference myself! But he knows. Ginji-kun knows. He knows what it is to be alive. I haven't felt like that in ages. And when you forced me into that – that _thing_, to die another death, you may as well have just thrust a knife through my heart. Perhaps you should have. It would have been a mercy, to perish at your hands...at least then I would be able to taste my own blood, my life, for the first time."

The words are uttered in a falling whisper, with such ferocity that no one could doubt the truth of Akabane's sincerity, his deeply concealed emotions and passions. So this is the one thing that Doctor Jackal fears.

In spite of himself and the shame that he feels from taking such interest in these horrifying revelations, Kazuki is held spellbound by the macabre tale, filing these bits of information away for future reference. In his never-ending quest to discover the essence of the source that affected his life so thoroughly, one day they may come in useful...

"Akabane. I didn't know. I wouldn't have done that to you if I'd known, I swear it," Ban soothes. There are sounds of another form being embraced, the gentle rubbing of a hand on the fabric of a shirt. "All I could think of was that we needed a place to hide. I wouldn't have hurt you like that if I had known."

A thin, drawn-out keening issues from Akabane, muffled when he presumably buries his face in Ban's shoulder to vent his grief.

"God..." Ban curses through his teeth then, in a language Kazuki doesn't recognize, though the self-flagellation is becoming familiar. "I had no idea you were claustrophobic. I _know_ phobias, believe me, Akabane. I swear I'd never have made you get in that damn coffin, no matter how big an army was after us, if I'd known what it would do to you."

Akabane takes a long, shuddering draw of breath. "Well. Now you know how _weak_ I really am," he nearly spits in disgust.

"Shh. It's not weak. It's serious." Ban squeezes him tight in a hug. "You want to improve your skills, don't you? Increase your strength? I can show you how to do that so you won't have panic attacks if you ever wind up in another situation like this again. I promise." He lightly kisses Akabane's forehead. "You're alive, and I intend to keep you that way."

Kazuki carefully shifts position on the floor, his knees cramping from prolonged restraint, as he endures the silence of reconciliation that follows. "I like being alive," Akabane says finally, his voice shielded by what Kazuki figures is Ban's arm. "As long as I can be with you."

"You will. I'm sorry."

"Please don't ever leave me like that again, Midou-kun."

"I won't."

"I would die without you."

"I know."

"I'm sorry about the wounds I gave you earlier."

"It's okay. I'll throw some more peroxide on 'em, they'll be fine. Speaking of which - " Ban halts in mid-thought as something occurs to him. "Promise you won't lock me out if I go next door to swipe some fresh bandages from Ginji?"

A sniffle, and then a soft clearing of throat as Akabane's default state restores itself to level. "Of course not, Midou-kun." The bed squeaks once, twice, as if the couple is rising in tandem. "Don't dawdle, now. I might get bored waiting."

Ban chuckles, and footsteps signal his swift approach. "I won't."

In one roll of motion Kazuki leaps up and pulls in his string, faster than he's ever done it before, and is about to dart to safety when he suddenly realizes that Midou isn't heading for the apartment door. The footsteps have faded almost as abruptly as they'd begun. Puzzled as to where the other man went and how his lover might now be repairing his lost composure, Kazuki hesitates for several seconds, debating his next course of action.

The pincer of a hand engulfing his neck and spinning him around like a child's toy top to face a pair of intense blue lasers boring into his own shocked gaze makes clear to Kazuki that his hesitation is a grave error.

"Windows are great, aren't they? Next time, try tagging your spies on a piece of clothing that isn't all black."

Kazuki, still rendered speechless by Ban's surprise assault, stares back guiltily. He tenses, waiting for it – the explosion of temper at having been caught eavesdropping on the couple's intimate moment – but it never comes.

Ban lets go of him and steps back. He calmly produces a cigarette and a lighter. A brief light flashes across his face, and with the second click the flame is sheathed and a thin trail of smoke curls aloft. Ban tilts his head back and closes his eyes as he savors his nicotine fix.

Kazuki can see now why Akabane finds this man so stunning. It's something in the way he presents himself to the world, the sheer audacity with which he moves through it, every bit the king cobra making his own path and aware of if not vaguely amused by the crowds that instinctively scatter to avoid him. He represents every dark fear they keep about themselves; the derogative labels they pin on him are simply distraction from sordid truths they are too ashamed to confront.

He's also devastatingly handsome, and he knows it. Quite the cocky snake bastard, as Shido would say.

Ban just stands quietly, leaning against the wall enjoying his cigarette. When the embers trickle closer to the butt he flicks it onto the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot. His face relaxes then, surprising Kazuki with an easy smile that makes him look almost as eternally youthful as Ginji.

He approaches Kazuki again without a hint of swagger in his step, and nods. "We didn't do too badly tonight, huh, threadspool?"

Kazuki is too offset by Midou's casual intensity and the unexpected absence of anger to bother with the usual annoying nickname. Cautiously, he returns the comment with a slow nod of his own. "I suppose the retrieval was a success, in its own way."

"Would've liked to have gotten the whole set of jars, but ah well. At least we got paid in full like we were supposed to." Ban grunts softly and stretches, and starts to walk away.

"Yes, one out of two can be considered respectable odds," Kazuki says, and turns to make his own exit.

"The Get Backers are still at a one-hundred-percent success rate as far as I'm concerned though. Oh, and threadspool?"

Kazuki freezes, one hand on the stair railing. "Yes?"

"You tell anybody about what you heard here tonight and I'll kill you."

Kazuki slowly turns around, daring to meet Ban's gaze. The other man's tone hasn't changed. It doesn't need to. The promise is all the more implicit in those unsmiling sapphire eyes. Ban Midou is deadly _serious._

Kazuki carefully swallows the sudden knot of fear clotting his throat, and inclines his head towards the other man in silent deference.

Ban smiles though the pleasantry never reaches the blue in his face, and gives an offhanded wave. "Sweet dreams, threadspool."

"Good night." Kazuki's own voice sounds curiously hollow in the silence of the other man's wake, and he contemplates his reaction to Ban Midou just now. Fancy that, the Prince of Battle Terror intimidated by a brash magician who only hints at his own anxieties while making a perpetual show of laughing in death's face before punching its lights out. He gives a frustrated half-laugh of confusion.

He's no closer to enlightenment than he was before. Maybe Juubei has a point, that he ought to learn when to cut his losses before Atropos snips that fateful strand for him with considerably less grace.

Maybe some mysteries aren't meant to be unraveled, least of all the mystery of the power of fear.

-----


	23. Pillow Talk part 1

Cut for chapter length. This is part 1. Part 2 will follow.

Title: Pillow Talk  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #19 – "red"  
Rating: PG-13 (violence, implied disturbing themes, adult content, language)  
Warnings/Spoilers: Minor ones for Ban's childhood and his history with Natsuhiko Miroku and the Kudou siblings; also minor spoilers for Akabane's history.  
Notes: Akabane's 'puking pumpkin' is very real; you can find similar carving designs online – I've made one every year for the last couple years in a row, and it's a hoot!  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, not making any money, as my starving wallet will attest.  
Summary: Holidays and secrets shared amidst lovers.

--

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Akabane and Ginji chorused as they presented Ban with a flurry of gifts.

"Eat the chocolate hearts first, Ban-chan! They're the best," Ginji added through a mouthful of brown and caramel ridging his lips.

"Not until after dinner," Akabane scolded gently. "They'll ruin your appetite, Midou-kun."

Ban raised a brow at the offerings, but gamely sat down to open them. Akabane and Ginji gathered before him expectantly, and he paused in the unwrapping of a metallic red box to give them his attention.

"Blood is red," Akabane said with a big smile.

"Lightning is blue," Ginji said, his grin equally as large.

"Fighting is fun - "

"But not as sweet as you!" Ginji pulled out the last present, a slightly mashed box of expensive truffles boasting a German label, which he handed to Ban.

Ban stared at it as if it was about to sprout heads. He looked to the double trouble. "Cute, guys. Real cute."

"We wrote it together," Akabane said, looking rather pleased with himself.

"The blood part is all Akabane-san's," Ginji made sure to point out.

"As if there was any doubt," Ban muttered, sounding more irritable than he really was and feeling oddly cherished.

--

"Midou-kun?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me how you and the Miroku siblings met."

"So you can track them down and fight them?"

"Maybe," Akabane answered with a coy smile.

Ban snorted. "In that case, forget it."

His lover pouted. "Midou-kun."

"Go to sleep, Akabane. I've got work in the morning."

"Natsuhiko-kun said you two were childhood friends."

"Natsuhiko has a big mouth."

"As big as yours?" Akabane asked sweetly, which earned him a slap on the head.

"Don't be a smartass."

"Why won't you tell me? Is there blood involved?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, pervert."

"I _would_ like to know," Akabane insisted.

Ban groaned quietly, having come to the realization that sleep would have to take a back seat to more pressing matters. "Fine, if it'll shut you up, I'll tell you. But you promise me you won't go chasing after them unless I tell you to. Got it?"

"What if we happen to meet while on a job?"

"Jackal," Ban said warningly.

The transporter sighed. "All right. I promise."

"You better mean it, too." Ban grumbled and rolled over in bed. "It was when I still lived in Germany..."

--

_"You look like a dork in those glasses," the older boy said._

_"Oh yeah? Well, you look like a sissy with that blue brooch thing on your shirt," Ban snapped._

_Natsuhiko scowled. "It belonged to my mother," he told Ban coldly. "At least I don't look like I was dressed by my grandma."_

_Both boys came out of the fistfight with bloodied noses, a fact which displeased their respective guardians, though for differing reasons. Shimon Miroku had believed his eldest to have improved upon his combat skill, and upon seeing Natsuhiko's grass- and bloodstained face promptly informed his son that training sessions would be doubled. _

_Natsuhiko was not happy, though his brothers (with the exception of Yukihiko) were rather pleased. Kirara couldn't have cared less; she generally went along with whatever plan happened to be accepted._

_Ban's grandmother blistered his ears for a solid hour on the wisdom of refusing provocation to a pointless fight, and then she subjected him to an even worse torture by cleaning out his cuts and scrapes with a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Ban's howls were twice as loud as the ones he'd uttered in the fight._

_They shared secrets too, something that thrilled Ban to no end because he'd never had anybody he could confide in, for fear they might turn out to be one of the witch-hunters, or partial to them. Bitten by the need to share this newfound precious trust he told Natsuhiko about his most closely-guarded secret: his family's history as one of the last remaining witch clans in existence._

_Natsuhiko surprised Ban not only with his easy acceptance of the news, but with his revelation that he was aware, at least in a vague sense, of the truth. "My dad says your dad is a warlock. So, can you do what he does?"_

_"What do you mean?" Ban asked, feeling equal parts annoyed and anxious, because he was curious to know whether this was the reason the Mirokus and his grandmother had kept in contact. He hadn't heard from his father in ages, not since the day he'd packed some bags, patted his son on the head and told him to be strong, to obey his grandmother. Grandma never did tell Ban why his father had to go away like that suddenly, or what he was doing. Only that there was something important that had to be done, and that he would learn the whole truth when he was deemed ready in due time._

_Ban was jealous at the thought that maybe his best friend had gotten to see his father while he'd heard nothing from him all this time. "How come you know about my dad?" he demanded._

_"My dad says he's seen him fight before," Natsuhiko said. "One day I might get to see it too. That's what I'm training for. Some of us are going to be bodyguards when we grow up." He poked Ban in the arm. "So, can you?"_

_"Can I what?"_

_"Turn people into toads. Fly on a broomstick. You know, all the stuff witches are supposed to do," the elder boy grinned._

_"Moron," Ban complained, punching him in the shoulder. "My grandma says we don't do junk like that. Not that we couldn't," he added quickly._

_"Man, you're boring witches," Natsuhiko said._

_"Tell that to my old lady," Ban said. "She can make you_ think _you're a toad just by looking at you! How does that grab you?"_

_However it grabbed him Natsuhiko didn't get the chance to say, because that was when Ban's grandmother appeared out of nowhere and coolly informed the two that it was time for Natsuhiko to return home with his father. Later that day she took Ban aside and scolded him for having exposed their family history._

_"But he's my best friend," Ban sulked. "Natsuhiko wouldn't tell anybody. He promised not to."_

_"Can you be so certain of that?" the old woman replied. "You may have to learn the hard way, my dear boy, that you ought to be wary of whom you place your trust in. People change as they grow up. One day you may find yourselves on opposite sides of the fence. What will you do then, having given away your most precious power to one who would use it unhesitatingly against you?"_

_"Natsuhiko wouldn't hurt me. We're friends forever," Ban stubbornly insisted._

_Of course, this was before Eris came along. _

_Sometimes Ban really hated the old bat for being right._

--

Every year Ban promised himself that he would teach Ginji the appropriate hours for Easter egg-hunting; every year he forgot and found himself rudely punted out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn by an overeager partner ready to get on with the search and get back all the brightly-colored eggs they'd spent the day before yesterday dyeing and then hiding.

This year was no exception, the one notable difference being that this time around Ban was not alone in bed when Ginji decided it would be a great idea to perform a flying dive straight into the middle of the mattress. One would think that Ginji would have learned by now that no one in the Midou household – retriever, feline, or transporter – was the morning type, and especially _not_ when they were abruptly awakened by a human cannonball that prompted their instincts to resort to their most natural defenses.

This year, the Easter eggs and jellybeans weren't the only things that were red, as the Honky Tonk crew sat down to a delicious ham dinner served by Paul. While Akabane led them in the saying of grace, Ginji kept a wary eye on him all through the serving, rubbing the heavily-bandaged portions of his body that hours earlier had resembled a porcupine's backside.

"Look at it this way, Midou-kun," Akabane patiently explained afterwards as he tended the raw scratches made by scalpels and claws alike on a less-than-pleased Ban, "at least we'll be able to sleep in on mornings from now on."

--

The reward for a hard day's work was a well-earned rest, and Akabane was more than ready to claim what he felt was his due. The transport job hadn't been as exciting as he'd hoped it would be, and the drive was unusually long, which meant that he'd spent all day on the road. His back ached and he was looking forward to curling up in bed with his favorite blankets.

One of those blankets snuck up behind him while he was combing his shower-dampened hair and suddenly snared him in a bear hug around the waist, scooping him up in a hold that lifted his feet free of the floor. "Midou-kun! Put me down," Akabane laughed.

Ban grinned and nuzzled his lover's neck. "Say 'please' first," he prompted.

Akabane smiled tolerantly. "Please."

Ban carried him over to their bed and dumped him unceremoniously onto the sheets before pouncing on top of him. "You didn't say _where_ I should put you down," he pointed out smugly.

"It's perfect," Akabane assured him, burrowing into the covers and his lover's embrace. "Are you coming to bed now too, Midou-kun?"

"I am, but sleeping isn't what I had in mind." With that, Ban started groping the transporter. "Hmm, you're awfully tense, Jackal. I know just the cure for that."

"Midou-kun," Akabane groaned. "It's late! Do you know how long I've spent cooped up inside Maguruma's truck?"

"That's exactly why you need a taste of my famous Constrictor move. That blond bimbo of Thread-spool's isn't the only one who can give great massages. Take your clothes off and lie down on your stomach."

Akabane eyed Ban suspiciously, but consented to have his pajama top removed. He swatted Ban's hand away from the waistband of his pants as he went to stretch out on the bed. "That isn't what I agreed to, Midou-kun."

"It was worth a shot." Ban shrugged and began working his hands slowly across the planes of Akabane's torso. "There, doesn't this feel better?"

Akabane sighed, allowing his lover's fingers to work their magic as they dug into his taut muscles and rubbed them until they softened into relaxation. He couldn't help uttering a soft purr of delight when the fingers of one hand slid up the back of his neck and gently teased the skin at his nape before delving deep into the thick mane of ebony.

"Like that, eh?" Ban's breath was warm as he bent over and caressed his ear with his lips.

"Mmmm." Already Akabane felt as though he were melting into the mattress. Another purr rumbled deep in his throat and he surrendered himself wholly to the pleasant sensations.

Ban continued his leisurely exploration of his lover's body, tracing the thin line of jagged flesh that marked Akabane's neck just above the largest of his scars. "You know, I've always wondered," he murmured, both hands grasping and then releasing at the muscles of his lover's shoulders, "how you got some of these..."

Akabane closed his eyes and smiled, turning his head more to the side so that Ban's mouth could get easily at the scar in question. "Is it that much of a mystery to you?"

Ban nibbled and licked at the little scar. "It doesn't seem very impressive compared to the other ones you got from all your fights."

"That's because I didn't get that one in a fight."

"Really." Ban smiled against the pale skin. "Do tell."

Akabane opened his eyes and gave him a cool stare. "It isn't something I'm particularly proud of. I'd appreciate it if you promised not to tell anyone, Midou-kun."

Ban sat up, raising an open palm. "Cross my heart and hope not to die."

Akabane closed his eyes again. "I was fifteen when I got it..."

--

_Exams had come and gone and the mood at school was lighthearted these days. Young boys, flush with newfound freedom, were indulging in their usual sports before the drudgery of classes descended upon them once more._

_Several of these students were clustered in one of the dormitory rooms, discussing their respective plans for the weekend. The ringleader declared that the group's rite of passage ought to be something spectacular, something devilishly outrageous, so that those who would follow in their footsteps would know of their peers' brilliance._

_The boys pondered this for a bit. What sort of feat could they accomplish? What display of manhood would be suitable for their place in history? Suggestions were made but each dismissed in turn as not befitting young men of their station. Most of them came from families whose histories were long and varied with amazing deeds extolled at many a gathering._

_Then someone offered up the old mansion as a possibility, and a hush fell over the room as the suggestion was considered. If they could pull it off, this caper would be legend for years. But did they dare venture into a building that even grown men would go to great lengths to avoid? Eventually the decision was finalized: they would risk everything for a brief moment of glory in an attempt to sneak inside a haunted house._

_--_

_Around nine o'clock the next night they assembled, those that could swallow their anxiety long enough to brave the dark chill of the evening and the potential teacher and parental wrath they would surely face if caught sneaking out. They'd even managed to attract a few girls along the way from the neighboring girls' academy; the scent of dangerous thrill had drawn them to the boys like butterflies to nectar._

_The group started walking up the hill toward their goal. The old mansion was a spectacular ruin at the outskirts of town, where it sat long abandoned as it continued to decay at a quiet pace. In spite of the damages suffered from nature's occasional fit and the natural passage of time, somehow the house retained an otherworldly air, an aura of invincibility and cold assurance that it would remain intact upon this earth well after the arrogant young teenagers about to breach it had departed this mortal realm._

_Local legend had it that when the mansion was in its prime, a series of murders had taken place in one of the upper bedchambers. The killer had never been caught, and it was rumored that the guilty one returned to the scene of his crime every anniversary of the deadly deed. Consequently, the house was deserted and the townsfolk made a point of evading it even in casual conversation; it was always referred to out of necessity as "the mansion" or "that old house." The stories varied, but the one that was passed around the most involved a love triangle, blackmail and brutal revenge. The frightening myth was made all the more embellished by the fact that the bedroom where the violence was said to have taken place could be heard at times to contain an eerie wailing, even when there was no apparent wind._

_The teenagers gathered this night scouted the building for the easiest way inside, thinking to have a peek at the so-called Bloody Bedroom and report back with nothing more titillating than perhaps a glimpse of classic horror the likes of which they'd read of in pulp fiction. The pack's leader, whose courage wasn't nearly as stalwart as he'd bragged, called for volunteers to be the first to enter the house, via an open window on one of the lower levels._

_One of his friends pointed to a tall, thin boy who lagged silently on the edges of the crowd. "What about him? He's skinny enough to get through that window."_

_His pal agreed, and the newcomer stepped forward. He had overheard the other students' conversation and had followed out of idle curiosity, having nothing better to do that night and wanting to be part of something exciting, even if only for a short while. The boy was a loner at school, looked upon as a pariah, though no one really knew why. Maybe it was his exotic appearance that they found off-putting: he possessed an astonishingly lovely pair of purple eyes._

_Whatever the case, he wanted his peers' attention, longed for their acceptance. And the best way to gain that was to do battle with the secrets of the haunted house._

_"I will go," the boy said._

_They boosted him up to the ledge. Once he had a grip on the sill and a solid toehold against the wall he scrabbled his way inside, careful to avoid the jagged edges of broken glass that bared their fangs at him from the sides of the window. They had given him a flashlight so that he might be able to see inside; he found his footing on the floor and dug the light out of his trouser pocket. _

_A flick later, he had his first glimpse of the mansion. He was in one of the larger rooms, possibly a dining area, by the look of it. All the furniture, with the exceptions of a few smaller pieces – perhaps knickknacks, or special heirlooms – had been left intact. According to the legend, no one had dared return to collect anything from the mansion, fearing an attack by the ghosts said to haunt the building. _

_"It's safe to come up," the boy called down to the anxious crowd. _

_Two others were elected to join him in short order. One was a portly student who was a friend of the ringleader. The other was one of the girls brave enough to scout the interior and report back to her friends. As soon as the three had gotten their bearings, they started off on a tour of the forbidden house._

_Everything was shrouded in a heavy layer of dust. Just moving in the space stirred up countless grains of it. They had to cover their noses and mouths when pulling down the curtain of cobwebs surrounding the door to the next room, which unleashed another snowfall of dust molecules once the door was opened. _

_"Disgusting!" the girl complained. "I'll never get this out of my hair!"_

_"If you move slowly, the dust doesn't get stirred up as much," the tall, thin boy explained. Indeed, although the three were coated head to toe with graying ashes, he was the least flaked with the stuff, for he moved like a spider in the surrounding gloom, carefully, with deliberation._

_"So where's the Bloody Bedroom?" asked the stout boy, who had only come along because his friend had begun mocking him when he'd expressed unease about venturing inside. He wanted to get the exploration over with as soon as possible._

_"Upstairs," the tall boy responded, sweeping the flashlight about for signs of a staircase._

_They prowled further, entering a living room with a spacious fireplace. The tall boy winced when he felt someone suddenly grab his arm in a vise._

_"Listen! Do you hear that?" his rotund companion whimpered, pointing at the fireplace._

_They held their breaths, awaiting a repeat of the soft moan that had exited the cavern where once a comforting hearth had held court. It came momentarily, beginning as a breathy sigh that carried over into a low whistle._

_"My mother says that's the ghost of the maid, come to warn off interlopers," the short boy whispered._

_The girl shook her head. "I don't think so. It sounds like the flue was just left open." Her expression was calm, but there was a hint of doubt underlying in her voice._

_The tall boy agreed, though he, like the girl, was experiencing his own self-doubts. The arcane had always fascinated him on some level he wasn't fully cognizant of, and if he were to be truly honest with himself there were aspects that brought to mind memories, nurtured by his home life, which sometimes frightened him. Still, he had also been raised to value rational thought and calculated action, and he wasn't about to give in to his weaknesses so easily. "Let's try to find the upstairs," he said._

_The next room they discovered was an office, leading off from the hallway that fed into the living room. Evidently one of the original residents here had been a physician, for the walls held many framed certificates attesting to formal education and honors. Curiously, aside from those dust-shrouded recognitions, there was nothing else in the room aside from an empty file cabinet and a half-opened box lying in one corner._

_"Boring," the elder boy said. "Let's move on."_

_"Wait a minute." The tall boy crept closer to the box. It was about the size of a small briefcase and had a red velvet lining. When he shone the flashlight upon it, the silver within seemed to be swimming in a pool of blood._

_"What are those things?" the girl asked._

_"Scalpels," the tall boy answered with a soft note of reverence as he knelt to examine the contents. His own lineage contained several healers, and he himself was planning to train for the same profession, so it came as something of an interesting surprise that they should find these little treasures waiting for them._

_He lifted the box lid completely away, brushing off the lingering spider webs and dust mites from the surgical instruments. He picked one up and held it to the light. It was surely an old model of knife, for it looked like nothing he'd ever seen in his father's office. Yet it was in superb condition despite its many years of use, for it seemed to shimmer with an inscrutable inner energy all its own. Delicately he traced the long, slender lines of the handle, turning it over and over in his fingertips. _

_It was beautiful, he decided. _

_And still plenty sharp too, he realized a moment later when he idly caressed the blade and felt a cold-hot sting along the side of his thumb. He glanced at the wound and was somewhat startled to find a half-inch-long cut marring the pale skin. It wasn't a deep cut but the blade's bite had struck true, and blood was already dripping down across his palm._

_"That's what you get for being such a weirdo," the other boy scoffed. "Come on, let's go check out the Bloody Bedroom so we can get out of here."_

_Irked by the rebuke the tall boy glared at him and said coolly, "What's wrong? Don't tell me you're scared."_

_"I'm not scared," the other boy retorted as his companion wrapped the injury in a piece of tissue. "I just – it's late. We gotta get back to the dormitory before they find out we're gone, or it'll be demerits and detention all week."_

_"He's right," the girl said. "My parents will kill me if I'm caught sneaking off the campus grounds again."_

_Annoyed by his companions' inability to take enjoyment from their expedition, the tall boy reluctantly replaced the lid on the box of scalpels, thinking it only proper to have paid his respects to their former owner by having taken the time to admire the instruments. He did, however, keep the scalpel he'd lifted from the box, carefully wrapping it in a handkerchief from his pocket and tucking this package into the shirt of his school uniform. It would serve as proof that he had braved the forbidden recesses of the mansion._

_The trio moved on._

_The stairway leading upstairs was long and surprisingly narrow, and it felt as if the surrounding walls threatened to close in on them. They took the stairs with caution, for overhead a flicker of moonlight could be glimpsed through the rotten hole in the ceiling. The elements had worn at the roof until rain and rot had eaten their way inside, and some of the decay had warped the stairs to a sagging creak._

_The second floor held more promise when, upon entering the first bedroom, they found signs that a struggle had taken place. Cracked furniture was lying splintered across the floor, glass and personal effects smashed – but no blood that would have indicated the presence of death._

_"Creepy," the girl said, pressing closer to the tall boy. "But I don't think this is what we're looking for."_

_The elder boy shook his head. "This looks more like one of the secondary bedrooms. I think the one we want is further down the hall." He looked to the tall boy for confirmation. "Isn't that right?"_

_"I think so. It's supposed to be really torn up, from what I've heard."_

_They turned to leave and as they did each simultaneously felt a rush of cold air gust behind their backs. They whirled and saw – nothing._

_"What – what was that?" the portly boy stammered. He'd suddenly turned quite white._

_The tall boy glanced at one end of the room. "It must just have been the wind. Look, the windows are all broken," he pointed out._

_"I heard the killer comes back to this place every year on the night of the anniversary," the other boy whined. "What date is it, again? Maybe the ghosts are warning us off."_

_"Maybe," the girl said, sounding unsure either way. _

_"Or maybe it's just our imaginations," the tall boy said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt._

_The next bedroom yielded nothing, for its settings were intact and no trace of activity – mortal or otherwise – was apparent. But then the girl spied a possible item of interest, and the trio gathered around to investigate._

_The small pocket door was unlocked, and despite the rusted hinges they were able to pull it open. A gasp from the girl preempted anything the boys had been about to say, as they found themselves gazing upon a room that for years had remained abandoned, according to the recollections of one terrible night._

_The notorious Bloody Bedroom was disappointingly plain. None of the furniture had been overturned or wrecked as in the other bedroom, and it didn't look as if any of the smaller personal items had been touched ever since that night. The only sign that this was truly the room they had been searching for was the large four-poster bed in the center...and a dark stain about the size of a dinner plate in the middle of the mattress._

_"This...this is it?" the short boy said. "I heard this place was supposed to have been painted top to bottom with gore!"_

_The tall boy was likewise as disheartened to see that the stuff of lore had proven false; he'd been looking forward to boasting to the others that he had braved the horrors of the haunted house and survived unscathed to tell about it. He supposed, though, that it was for the best anyway, since he wasn't sure how well he could have held off any surprise attackers if they had been confronted, given his slender build and inexperience._

_They filed into the large bedroom to look some more, thinking that perhaps they'd missed something in their initial glance. But there were no more interesting clues to be found. The room was silent, the dust and cobwebs were still, and all that was left was nothingness. _

_"Wow," the girl said. "To think that all this time, people were afraid of coming here when there's not much to see."_

_"People are superstitious," the tall boy shrugged. "If it's repeated often enough, myth becomes belief after a while."_

_"I gotta take a piss," the other boy grumbled as he started to undo his trousers._

_"Eww! Go someplace else to do it," the girl groaned._

_"That'd be the scariest thing we've seen all night," the tall boy chuckled in agreement._

_The other boy scowled at them both and grabbed the flashlight from him before toddling off out into the hall, muttering a few obscenities as to his companions' choice of hygienic practices. The girl and the tall boy were left standing in the bedroom with its meager bearings._

_She moved closer to him. "Well...now what do we do?"_

_The tall boy made to stand next to her, thinking that here was an interesting opportunity that could make up for the lack of excitement, and hoping he hadn't misread the signals. "If it was cleaned up, this place wouldn't look so bad," he said. "The beds don't look like they've been hardly used."_

_To prove his point, he went over to the mattress and lifted away the blankets and sheets, waving away the thick cloud of dust that floated into the air as he did so. The bloodstain had soaked all the way through the mattress itself, but he took off his sweater and laid it over the stain to hide it. "If you didn't know that was there, it looks like a regular bed..."_

_"It does," the girl agreed, moving near him again. "I've always wanted a big bed like this. It's just so romantic." She stroked one of the spires, admiring the rich mahogany grain._

_"My mother has a bed almost exactly like it," the tall boy said, sitting down on the mattress. "They're very comfortable." And the bed was, despite its wear and tear; the springs still provided ample cushioning should one wish to make use of it._

_The girl smiled – she'd gotten the hint and was entertaining his suggestion, though he wasn't her usual type. She sat down beside him and he took hold of her hand. "It's kind of weird, isn't it? To think that we're here in the same room where those people got killed all those years ago..." _

_The tall boy nodded. "They said it was a crime of passion." He could feel his own blood thrumming with a kind of queer excitement now, the scent of the girl running heady through his nose as he breathed it in. She was soft and pretty and he wondered if it would be as good as everybody said it was. _

_The illicit thrill of risky adventure only contributed to their desire, for though the girl had protested earlier that they ought to return home before being caught trespassing and breaking the rules, she now showed no inclination of wanting to hurry out of here. They leaned towards each other slowly, each hesitating at alternating moments, and at last the tall boy gently pressed his lips against hers. She tasted sweet-salty at once, a strangely intoxicating flavor._

_She kissed back, laying a hand on his chest, and he could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric. He decided he liked this. Still kissing, they began to recline on the bed, one of his hands cupping her face, the other hand resting on her shoulder and starting to slip down, lowering from her arm to the side of her breast. She made a noise of pleasure in her throat, and leaned into him more fully. Their lips parted but remained touching, and their tongues began a tentative dance with each other as her hands sought a hold on his body, one traveling up the back of his neck to tangle in his long hair, the other shyly inching its way toward the apex of his thighs. Delighted with her initiative, he let his own hand creep along her leg where her skirt had ridden up slightly –_

_"Come on! We have to get out of here!"_

_Until that moment they'd forgotten about the other boy, figuring that he was either taking his time to do business or had chosen to explore further after doing so in the hope of finding something of note. Startled by his howl and sudden intrusion the tall boy and the girl yanked themselves apart and stared at him. He was deathly pale and shaking, eyes wide with terror._

_"I saw them! I saw the ghosts!"_

_"What?" gasped the girl._

_"Where?" the tall boy demanded._

_"In – in – in the other room!"_

_They raced back down the hall into the bedroom with the ruined furniture, which was lit by the flashlight that the frightened boy had dropped. He pointed at the dresser's only surviving adornment, which, although badly cracked, retained its shards in the original placement._

_"They were in the mirror," he stammered. "I was standing by the broken window to – you know –" he gestured at his fly – "and when I turned around, there they were! They'd been watching me!"_

_Cautiously the tall boy poked a finger at the fractured mirror. Nothing greeted him except cool smoothness marred by separation lines and myriad versions of the three who looked upon it. _

_"There's nothing in there now but us," the girl said. _

_The tall boy smirked. "Are you sure you didn't just see your own reflection instead? The sight of you doing that would be enough to scare any ghost away."_

_"I know what I saw!" the other boy snapped. "You two might think this is funny, but – "_

_A low vibration several rooms away cut him off and drew the others' notice. It started as a softly-pitched aspiration and from there rose into an echoing moan. All three teenagers' eyes went huge and they bunched together in disbelief._

_"It can't be," the girl whimpered._

_The keening continued, gaining in volume as it strengthened. From down the hallway they heard the noise of wood being struck, then again – and again – and again –_

_"Someone's coming upstairs! IT'S THE GHOSTS!" the short boy wailed as he tore loose from the huddled group. "I'm getting out of here!"_

_"Wait!" the girl cried, but he was already out the door. The thumping kept getting louder with each progressive impact; she looked back and forth between the inky blackness and her remaining companion with growing desperation, and then finally with a shriek she took off after the first boy._

_The tall boy was left to despair his worsening fate. Alone, in the dark, with nothing and no one for protection now, he was trapped in the bedroom with plenty of nightmares for unwelcome company. Still the pounding of weight against board increased, each sound seeming to herald the promise of bloody pain as it got louder yet, and –_

_The boy cast his gaze around for a weapon, something, anything that could be used as a blunt object, even though a ghost probably wouldn't be affected by solid matter; if it was the killer who was purported to revisit the scene of his wrath every year, it might yet make a difference. He'd just spotted a club of wood from one of the legs of the armoire when he heard two screams, each in rapid succession and one pitched higher than the other, then an enormous BOOM-CRASH-THUD! that was unmistakably bodies hitting the floor._

_The tall boy did what anyone in his place would have at that point: he panicked, dropped his makeshift weapon and barreled straight for the closest exit._

_It would later come as an extremely aggravating shock to him to learn that the noises they'd thought were the legendary ghosts of the Bloody Bedroom coming to exact revenge were actually those of some of their peers, who had decided to play a prank on them by pretending to stage an attack. The thudding noises had been the first boy and the girl literally running into the mischievous gang after taking a corner too sharply. Of course, this fact was unknown to the tall boy at the time, and in a crisis who can honestly say that their mind is of clear and sound judgment? _

_If one felt that one was in danger, one naturally took the easiest route to escape – which, in the tall boy's case, happened to be the broken window. When he'd taken flight he landed roughly outside on the ground below, breaking his arm, spraining his ankle and badly bruising the rest of his body. He managed to stagger to his feet and hobble around the corner of the house, and when the crowd saw him coming they scattered with frightened squeals, thinking that the wild-eyed, wild-haired bedraggled and blood-spattered apparition was after them. _

_The physician who treated the boy would remark that he was extremely fortunate the jagged glass edges had only slashed open the skin of his neck on one side, and a shallow wound at that. He was also lucky that the scalpel he'd kept hadn't punctured anything important; had either the glass or the knife taken him in the abdomen or chest, or scored a vital artery, he would not have lived to share his embarrassing tale._

_Some tombs are better left undisturbed._

--

Halloween unfolded around the denizens of the Honky Tonk in garish orange and black, complete with mischievous pumpkins peering out of the front windows with huge smiles. Everyone agreed that Natsumi had outdone herself decorating the place.

In one corner, Ban and Ginji were making preparations for their annual trick-or-treating, despite the fact that both were well past the age where Halloweening was considered an acceptable pastime. All was going well, until -

"What the fuck is that?" Ban demanded, making a face as he pointed towards Akabane.

"What does it look like, dearest? It's a jack-o'-lantern, of course," the transporter responded smoothly.

"That is not a jack-o'-lantern. That – " Ban pointed at the goofy grinning pumpkin that belonged to Ginji – "is a jack-o'-lantern. That – " he pointed at Akabane's pumpkin – "is a freakish abomination of nature. Where the hell did you get something like that? A refuse dump for demon bowels?"

Akabane pouted. He drew the pumpkin – a large, black misshapen ghoul of a gourd, mottled with oozing red splotches that looked disturbingly like bloody lesions – into his protective embrace. "I like it," he said defensively, frowning at the Get Backers who were staring at it as if it were a festering turd. "It was the only one of its kind, and it's perfect in keeping with the spooky holiday theme. Look, I'm almost done carving it," he said happily as his scalpel shaved a fresh piece off of one facial feature. "What do you think?"

Ginji twitched. "It won't...like...get up late at night when we're sleeping and eat our brains...will it, Akabane-san?"

"Samhain is when the veil between the mortal world and the spirit realm is at its thinnest," Ban told him. "If I were you, I wouldn't mess with my candy, Ginji, or I might just let the Jackal-lantern have at you."

"BAN-CHAN!"

Akabane waggled a scalpel at Ban. "That's not very nice, Midou-kun." He turned back to his pumpkin, which had been made to appear as if it was vomiting up its own pulp and seeds through a fanged maw. "There. Finished." He smiled as he placed a votive candle within the gaping jaws and lit it.

"Wow, Akabane-san!" Natsumi chirped. "That's amazing! I bet it would win a first prize red ribbon if we had a contest for the best pumpkin!" She dimmed the lights in the shop so that the shadows would showcase the candles in everyone's pumpkins to their maximum dramatic effect.

Akabane beamed as he admired his art. "Doesn't the light make it seem as if the innards coming out of its mouth are all bloody?"

Ginji made a noise somewhere between gagging and coughing. His face was a picture of misery. "You can have my candy, Ban-chan. I don't think I'm very hungry anymore."

"Works for me! Between you and my regular Evil Eye food haul, I'm gonna make out like a bandit tonight."

At the counter, Paul frowned. "That's a gross misuse of your power, Ban."

Ban was unrepentant. "Hey, you're lucky I don't zap you to make you forget about our tab."

The newspaper went back up. "Now you know why I wear my glasses all the time."

"Heh. Some people have no sense of humor." Ban poked Akabane. "You coming with us for trick-or-treating, Jackal?"

"I would love to," a smiling Akabane answered.

"You're not allowed to chop up people though," Ginji reminded him. "Even though it's Halloween and things are supposed to be all scary."

Akabane considered this. "What if we're offered treats that aren't any good?"

Ban and Ginji looked at each other.

"He's got a point, Ban-chan. Remember those crappy ones in the red wrappers?" Ginji said after several minutes' silence.

Ban shivered. "Eugghh. The chocolate coating tastes all right, but that sticky junk in the middle isn't fit to give to even a monkey trainer."

"Snake bastard. You have no honor," Shido complained.

"All's fair in love, war, and candy-gathering," Ban shot back, slapping his arms around Akabane and Ginji. "Right, guys?"

----

(TBC in Part 2)


	24. Pillow Talk Part 2

Cut for chapter length. This is part 2.

Title: Pillow Talk  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #19 – "red"  
Rating: PG-13 (violence, implied disturbing themes, adult content, language)  
Warnings/Spoilers: Minor ones for Ban's childhood and his history with Natsuhiko Miroku and the Kudou siblings; also minor spoilers for Akabane's history.  
Notes: Akabane's 'puking pumpkin' is very real; you can find similar carving designs online – I've made one every year for the last couple years in a row, and it's a hoot!  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, not making any money, as my starving wallet will attest.  
Summary: Holidays and secrets shared amidst lovers. (Part 2)

--

Maguruma did a double-take when his partners entered the truck. "Jackal. What are you wearing?"

Akabane smiled. "Isn't it lovely? It's my birthday present from Midou-kun." He spun around in the back of the cab, letting the long tails of his new trenchcoat swing wide. "It reminds me a little of Miroku Natsuhiko-kun's, except his is white."

He tapped his head. "And look, Midou-kun even got me a matching hat!"

Himiko shook her head. "Great, now you'll blend right in with the rest of the blood."

Akabane chuckled. "Yes. Wasn't that thoughtful of him?" He frowned suddenly as a thought occurred to him. "The only thing is, I get the strangest comments whenever I wear the new outfit in public. Do either of you by any chance know of an organization called Hellsing?"

--

Ban's birthday loomed large, and Akabane was determined to ensure that his lover thoroughly enjoyed the day. Among the planned festivities was the preparation of the cake, which Akabane was personally attending to with the help of Ginji.

"It turned out great, Akabane-san! All we have to do now is put the frosting on it," Ginji said, patting a container of white cream frosting that was sitting nearby. He lifted a small box of food coloring. "The blue will make it really stand out."

He held out the box, but instead of taking the blue bottle of food coloring, Akabane plucked out a different one. "Ginji-kun, I was thinking that red would be a good shade for it."

Ginji shook his head. "Red's too much, Akabane-san. Blue would be much nicer, and it matches Ban-chan's eyes." He picked out the blue bottle and placed it by the frosting.

Akabane smiled, making no move to touch the unwelcome color. "Yes, it does. But the cake recipe is called 'Death By Chocolate', and red frosting would be the more appropriate decoration. No?"

Ginji made a sour face. "Trust me, Akabane-san. Let's use the blue." He nudged the bottle closer to Akabane's hand.

Akabane's smile grew strained. "Ginji-kun, I like the red better." He held up the bottle of his choice.

Ginji frowned. "But blue is the color of harmony and confidence. It's a happy color. You want Ban-chan to be happy, don't you?"

"Of course. That's why we're using the red, because it's the color of passion and excitement and romance," Akabane announced.

Ginji twitched. "_I_ want the blue."

Now Akabane's frown matched his. "_I_ prefer the red."

"Blue."

"Red."

"Blue!"

"Red!"

_"Blue!"_

_"Red!"_

"I SAID we should use BLUE!" Electricity crackled around Ginji as he went to knock the bottle of red food coloring out of the white-gloved hand –

- and was promptly halted dead in his tracks by one VERY large and very red sword pointing straight at his throat.

"Red," Akabane growled.

Ginji blinked as a bead of sweat crawled its way down the back of his neck. "Red," he agreed with shaky voice and trembling smile.

A longsuffering sigh preempted whatever Akabane had been about to say, as Himiko – who had been standing in the doorway of the kitchen watching this childish display – came forward and snatched up both bottles of food coloring. "Why don't you just use both and have purple? He likes that color too."

--

Christmastime in Shinjuku was as merry as anyplace else, though several of the patrons of the Honky Tonk expressed particular fondness for it. Ginji was gleefully anticipating the gift-unwrapping frenzy to come, Ban was drooling over the bountiful opportunities for feasting, and Akabane was awaiting the grand moment when the recipients of his gift-shopping would discover the treasures he'd prepared for them.

Ban questioned the validity of one present's existence, however. "Jackal?"

"Yes?"

"Care to explain to me what the shit this is and why it has Fudou's name on it? More importantly, why it has MY name on the 'from' portion of the tag?"

Akabane smiled and knelt to pat the tiny gaily-wrapped package sitting beneath the decorated tree. "Well, I thought that since I've deprived Fudou-san of so many of his limbs this year, perhaps he deserves a small treat for once. Don't you think?"

Ban stared. "You want us to give a holiday gift to a man who would gladly decorate _his_ Christmas tree with my freshly-dripping entrails."

Akabane didn't miss a beat. "Yes."

"Hmm. I gotta think about that," Ban said, pretending to mull it over for a second. "How about, 'no.' Couldn't you have just left your name on the tag without associating mine with this travesty?"

"Midou-kun," Akabane sighed. "It isn't fair if everyone else gets a present and someone is left out."

"Cry me a river. The king of the monkey-circus, I can let slide, since he did come in handy on the last job we had. But we're talking _Fudou_ here. I have to draw the line somewhere."

"Don't be Scroogey, Ban-chan. It _is _Christmas," Ginji added reproachfully from where he was tacking up the stockings on the wall, along with his note to Santa Claus.

Ban sighed and hung his head in defeat. He couldn't argue with that logic, especially when both Ginji and Akabane sent sweetly pleading looks his way.

"The spirit of giving ought to be practiced generously, especially at this time of year," Akabane cheerfully informed his lover. "Which is why I made sure that the eyepatch I bought for Fudou-san has a sizeable bull's eye on it along with the miniature 'Ban Midou was here' inscription. That way you'll have something to aim for the next time you two get into one of your little scrapes!"

Ban rolled his eyes. "What would I ever do without you, Jackal?"

--

"Midou-kun?"

"Mm?"

"How did you happen to meet Fudou-san?"

"Oh God. You had to ruin a perfectly good night by bringing up He Who Shall Not Be Named..."

"I'll admit that Fudou-san is a bit...rough around the edges, but really, I find him a rather interesting fellow."

"Feh. Interesting in the same sick way that a bunch of maggots eating a piece of roadkill might be, maybe. And I've seen too many of those to be impressed."

"Then you won't tell me about him?"

Ban groaned again, louder this time. "I'll tell you, but you better pay attention, 'cause this is the first and last time you'll ever hear it out of my mouth. I'd rather get a root canal with your rusty scalpel than have to relive the time I spent hanging around that psychotic creepozoid."

Akabane pouted slightly. "My scalpels are not rusty. I keep them all in excellent condition."

Ban poked him in the ribs. "Quiet, you. Do you want to hear about it or not?"

Akabane sighed and settled next to him. "Of course I do."

"All right. Once upon a time, it was a dark and stormy night..."

--

_It was a dark and stormy night when Yamato Kudou surprised his partners by breaking one of his seldom-altered rules._

_Thieves have no honor, or so they say. For safety's sake, the Kudou gang had come up with their own code, which they never tampered with unless absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, the Matsumoto job was one such that required an extra pair of sticky fingers._

_Yamato didn't much care for working with others in his chosen profession, even under the best of circumstances. The only two people he truly trusted in the world were his younger sister, Himiko, and their unofficially adopted brother Ban Midou. He'd caught the latter trying to pick his pocket one day and despite his pissed-off mood at having to chase the little runt down to retrieve his wallet, he hadn't been able to help taking a liking to the punk. Ban was cocky, almost as smart-assed as himself, and had a whip-smart head on his shoulders that Yamato greatly respected._

_That was why, months after he would come to sorely regret his decision, he would soon begin wishing that he'd listened to Ban and not allowed a fourth member in._

_Takuma Fudou was a thief well-known in certain circles for his brute strength. Even more well-known was he for his hair-trigger temper, which could be sparked by the least little thing – he'd once torn off a man's arms and beaten him to death with the bloody stumps; the man's crime had been to ask Fudou whether he wanted some condiment with his food. Not exactly an asset in the plundering world, where gangs needed levelheaded members in order to function successfully and avoid the authorities. Fudou's sheer mass, however, was an asset where the numbers were against them, and it was for this reason alone that Yamato elected to hire him._

_Right away Ban smelled trouble. "Get rid of that asshole," he complained to Yamato. "He's twitchier than a skunk with a live wire up its ass. I don't trust him any further than I could throw him. And I don't like the way he looks at Himiko when he thinks nobody's watching."_

_"Believe me, I'd like nothing better than to sic one of the disposal agents I know on him," Yamato had snapped back. "You think I haven't noticed him staring at her? I swear, if that fucker so much as farts in her direction I'll rip his balls off and stuff 'em down his throat and ram his whole head sideways through a meat grinder."_

_"So dump him! Get somebody else."_

_"There is nobody else, Ban. I've looked all over Shinjuku and the few that can do the Matsumoto joint are either dead, imprisoned, or scheduled for other jobs. This is the one shot we have at it, so if we're going to do it, we have to do it now. We'll never get another chance as easy as this."_

_"Then why risk it by having a sloppy dickhead like Fudou around to fuck things up? I don't feel like spending the prime of my life locked up for hard time because of his crackpot temperament."_

_It was a matter of pride for the Kudou gang that no mark on their jobs had ever been seriously harmed. Roughed up in due course, yes; sometimes it was unavoidable given the volatile nature of their work. But they always took great care never to injure their opponents unless absolutely necessary, and only when all other options for peaceful retreat had been exhausted. Consequently they weren't as notorious or as hunted as some of the more dangerous thieves, and they could rest easier knowing their fates weren't hinged on the life – or death – of someone they'd targeted._

_Fudou had no such inclinations. His job history was fraught with blood, broken bones, blood, mangled corpses, more blood, and God only knew what else along the road. The situation wasn't helped by the fact that it was instant hate at first sight for the two when they met. Fudou thought Ban to be weak and annoying, and Ban wasn't shy about voicing his opinion of Fudou's work ethics – or lack thereof, in this instance._

_"We need muscle to deal with Matsumoto's guards. He's the only one intimidating enough for the job. I can control this nut," Yamato insisted. "You just concentrate on your end and stay away from him as much as you can. Once we've got the Ruby Moon he's history."_

_They spent several months in preparation for the big night. Thievery is much less glamourous than it appears onscreen. Good thieves – smart ones – will take their time casing a potential target, and even longer in setting up the tools, scenario, and escape route required to execute a successful take. Those that skimp on the details usually wind up poorer if not busted for their troubles. The Kudous' operations almost always ran as smoothly as clockwork because of all the hard effort and meticulous planning they put into each job. _

_What ensued with the addition of Fudou was a tinderbox of irritation. Fudou and Yamato were constantly arguing over whose ideas were better; it was only when Yamato threatened to abandon the whole job that Fudou gave in and let him assume leadership. The thug was as greedy as he was insane, and to walk away from a windfall the likes of the Ruby Moon was unthinkable._

_More problematic were the clashes between him and Ban. The two plunderers despised each other and made no secret of it. Ban did what he could to avoid being around the scumbag (and to make sure that Himiko was never left alone with him either), but inevitably Fudou would find and seek him out for another round of vicious taunts and merciless barbs, and their encounters often degenerated into fistfights, which Yamato was stuck refereeing. In spite of his impressive street pedigree and his sense for fighting, Ban never walked away from these scrapes without at least one freshly-bleeding wound._

_Not only did Fudou have a knack for battle as well, he had a special weapon, as it turned out, that made him an invaluable asset. Yamato would later confess to Ban that it was the real reason he'd hired Fudou, as his curiosity had been piqued by a demonstration of it during their initial conference._

_Second sight, or clairvoyance, is a rare and special power indeed. Those that possess it are both blessed and cursed: they may glimpse into the future a brief spell of what probability out of limitless choices is most likely to be the outcome of any given situation. But this gift demands its price in the form of serious physical exhaustion, for as the mind wills so too does the body follow, and no mind is more taxed than the one capable of seeing events – particularly emotionally-related or traumatic ones - that have not yet happened._

_Fudou, incredibly, seemed to have no such handicap. Indeed, he was able to call forth his visions at will, without regard to frequency, and seemed none the worse for it (though Ban might argue otherwise). His only hobbling was that the power was apparently limited to a maximum duration of five seconds, past which he could no longer gain access to future sight. It was Ban's opinion that this was nature's one small mercy. For a man like Fudou, who took a sick glee in the cruelty he wrought, such power would truly have unleashed hell upon all Shinjuku if not the world._

_It was during one of their fights that Ban got a firsthand taste of this terrible strategy. He'd gone in for what he knew should have been a surefire knockout and wound up kissing floor with bloodied teeth. Rolling over in shock, he came face to face with Fudou's hideous one-eyed grin._

_"Your partner forgot to tell you about my little trick, didn't he, boy? I can see you. I can see what you'll do, every step of the way, and I can block it before it ever gets within a hair's breadth of me. You don't stand a chance against me and we both know it. Remember that, little boy, the next time you feel like taking a swipe at me with your kitten's claws. I'll squash you before you ever get started."_

_Ban quickly learned that it was better to outsmart Fudou than fight him. Fudou was cunning, but not intelligent enough to grasp the finer points of life, whereas Ban had spent his childhood being chased all over Europe by crazies just as fanatical and with twice as much firepower, even as he'd huddled in libraries or nooks in whatever spare time he could manage, poring through as much information as he could process at any given time. When he'd landed in Japan his learning curve increased even more with his stint at Maria's and his time on the streets, and thus he'd figured out that there were ways to handle bullies of Fudou's streak without direct confrontation. _

_Even so, the threats didn't let up. It was as if denial only whetted Fudou's obsession with and appetite for carnage. When it finally came time to pull off the job tempers were at an all-time high, but for the sake of scoring a huge payoff everyone managed to restrain themselves – barely. _

_The Ruby Moon was exactly as its name implied: an enormous natural ruby, cut so as to resemble a crescent moon beneath the lights that highlighted its infamy in the private museum. Yamato's intention was to break into Matsumoto's collection, steal the gem, and fence it through a contact he'd done business with before. Of risks, there were countless: Matsumoto was paranoid about security, and could afford to hire the best – credible word had it that more than a few of them that were employed were military-grade. Yamato had only decided to take on the daunting operation because he'd gotten a tip-off from Matsumoto's vengeful ex; apparently they'd crossed paths one night and wound up getting pretty friendly with each other. _

_Even with the danger involved and the wild card that Fudou's temperament presented, it still ought to have been a relatively smooth procedure. Each of them had their roles and they'd rehearsed their actions over and over to be certain everyone knew what he or she was supposed to do, and when to do it. Himiko would lead the first wave and drug the outer guards with her sleep perfume so they could enter the compound. Yamato and Ban would bring up the rear, dealing with any leftovers or security systems as they followed the map Yamato had made with the information he'd obtained through his associations with the ex and his own extensive research. _

_Once they'd assembled near the room where the Ruby Moon was kept, Yamato would summon Fudou to take out the worst of the opposition. As soon as that was done, Ban and Yamato would attack the remaining computer system in order to allow Himiko to sneak inside the room and grab the jewel, since she was the only one small enough to fit inside the caged display. While she was doing that, Yamato, being the wheelman, would return to their getaway vehicle and prep the engine for a fast escape._

_What they wanted was organized precision. What they got was complete chaos._

_Getting in was the easy part; the real fun started when halfway through their assault on the inner computer system Yamato discovered an additional failsafe that shouldn't have been there. Too late he tried to stop the program's relay. Sirens blared and suddenly they were surrounded by the heavily armed members of Matsumoto's elite protection service. Adding insult to injury, Matsumoto himself made a surprise appearance, having been waiting inside the gem vault for just such an occasion. Unfortunately Yamato's source had neglected to mention that the man had a habit of sleeping with his treasure, so paranoid was he that someone would attempt to steal it. _

_With these odds against them, there was no other choice but to cut and run unless they wanted to end up dead or worse. Ban would later grimace and reluctantly – very reluctantly - admit that he and Fudou were terribly efficient at eliminating obstacles, but that was the only good thing he had to say about that miserable night. Their net loss: months of planning and preparation, and all they had to show for it was a couple of piddly gemstones (hastily swiped on the way out by Yamato as meager compensation for their troubles, and wouldn't even begin to cover the expenses they'd incurred in planning the heist) and plenty of sore, bruised spots from all the fighting they'd had to do to get out with their hides (mostly) intact._

_Fudou had fucked up royally._

_In the confrontation with Matsumoto, the berserker had wanted to make a rush for the Ruby Moon anyway. Yamato had bellowed at him to stop, forget it, and Fudou hadn't taken kindly to that order to say the least. He'd slammed Yamato to the floor and sneered in response that he was going to have what he wanted one way or another – and then had charged Matsumoto, who was wielding a formidable combat rifle._

_Not that the gun did the magnate any good – he raised it to fire at the behemoth about to pound him into the ground, and discovered the hard way that Fudou's second sight had already anticipated this. By the time the others had realized what had happened, the leonine giant of a man had Matsumoto in the death grip of his fists and was about to snap him in two._

_"You stupid bastard! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Yamato roared. "Let him go!"_

_"Fuck you, Kudou! We've come this far and I'm not leaving this place until I take what I came for!" Fudou snarled. "This old bag wants to get in my way, he can die right alongside his security blankets!"_

_Matsumoto was clawing at the meaty fingers clamped around his throat. His eyes bulged and his face was turning deeper colors that weren't a normal part of the human skin tone spectrum._

_"Fudou, you damn idiot, you're going to get us all killed!"_

_Ban didn't wait to see what either Yamato or Fudou would do next. He rushed the bigger man, aiming a vicious kick to the backs of his knees while Fudou's attention was focused on Matsumoto. The behemoth snarled in rage as he went down, almost squashing Ban in the process. The now-freed jewel kingpin skittered to freedom, his fright propelling him back inside the vault where he promptly tripped the door's emergency lockdown system._

_Ban was left facing a ton of enraged psychopath but he, like Matsumoto, was no fool. Even as he'd knocked Fudou's legs out from underneath him he was up and whirling for the exit in expectancy of the violent explosion he knew his attack would provoke. Himiko had seen what was happening and flung a bottle of paralysis perfume at them; only by sheer good luck did Ban manage to avoid being hit with the dose as well. _

_Fudou screamed colorful obscenities at them but by the time he had torn himself loose of the perfume's thrall Yamato, Ban and Himiko were already piling into Yamato's car and burning rubber down the street, the disgrace from their mess clinging to them more vividly than the exhaust fumes and dust. _

_--_

_The gang had to lie low for a long time after that. Even though Matsumoto hadn't put up any notice of their exploit or offered a reward for their capture (Ban figured it was the man's way of thanking them for saving his life), news of the failed heist had hit media fans, so the safest thing to do was keep a low profile until the storm blew over. It was not a pleasant time overall, but they made do with what funds they had left and what earnings they could glean from small street scams or pickpocketing._

_Fudou – the other reason why they'd been in hiding - hadn't been heard from since that night, and Yamato thought that he'd probably escaped, since no arrests had been made and the only corpses found were those of several guards, on whom the wacko had likely taken out his thwarted desires. None of them felt like discussing his presence again, so they tacitly agreed to drop the subject and pretend it never happened._

_Unfortunately life has a way of bringing up sore wounds, particularly ones that people would rather forget about, and the Kudou gang was rudely reminded of this late one evening when Ban came back from a cigarette run only to find the festering pus-scab of a bastard sneaking into Himiko's bedroom. Yamato was still out, having gone to meet with a potential client who fixed them up with jobs in the interim when things were slow._

_"What in the unholy fuck are _you _doing here?" Ban snarled softly, leery of scaring Himiko with an outburst even though he was plenty pissed._

_In the doorway, Fudou turned to face him. His visible eye was alight with an eerie glitter of something that Ban wasn't sure he wanted to recognize. "Hush, little boy. You'll wake the baby." He grinned as if he found that amusing._

_"Didn't you hear what I said, asshole? I warned you that if I ever saw your ugly face on the streets again, I'd rip your goddamned fucking arm off and make you choke on it!"_

_"Hush," Fudou repeated, holding up a finger to his lips. "I'm only here to collect what's due me. Even if we didn't finish the job to my satisfaction, your friend Yamato still owes me for the work I put in. I heard he's been around town fencing some valuable merchandise."_

_"You broke protocol and nearly got us thrown in jail. You can take your entitlement and shove it up your ass," Ban sneered. "Yamato doesn't owe you jack."_

_Fudou cracked the knuckles of his left hand. "Oh, I beg to differ, witch-spawn." He sniffed, a disgusting wet grunt that rattled in the back of his throat. "Heh. Witch-spawn. Don't think I don't know what you are, boy. I've seen it in my visions. I can see it even now, in those cursed eyes of yours."_

_Ban had to remind himself not to move or show fear of any sort. Fudou's type fed on it like flies did carrion._

_"'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.'" Fudou's grin split even farther. "I think Yamato would be inclined to show a little generosity towards a fellow member of his profession if I were to go to the authorities and give them a detailed description of his accomplices and hideout. Hmm?" _

_A soft stirring nearby stopped Ban from replying. Himiko was asleep in her bed, a teddy bear that Ban had given her as a birthday gift snuggled in her arms. The bruises on her face that she'd gotten from a recent accident after mixing some faulty perfumes had deepened to a sickly plum shade._

_"Tasty," Fudou suddenly said as he crept into the room._

_Ban felt like he'd just stepped off the deep end of a pier. He stared at the big man as he followed after him._

_"Delicious." Fudou's eye sparked with a deadly hunger as he studied the sleeping girl. "Have you ever seen anything as beautiful as this, Midou?"_

_Ban's stomach threatened to turn itself inside out. He couldn't believe he was hearing this shit. He'd known from the moment they met that Fudou was a sick and demented creep, but he'd not had this glimpse down the dark pit till now. _

_He looked at Himiko and couldn't repress a shudder. To Fudou, her beauty came in the form of tarnished, broken innocence. Ban thought back to one day before the jewel heist when they'd run across some punks that had seemed to know who Fudou was; one of them had referred to the man as "Reverend." The thought of Fudou acting in any holy capacity was laughable to say the least. That it hinted at real history was a pathetic joke, or someone's lousy idea of one._

_Fudou took a step closer to the bed. He was staring at the bruise swelling Himiko's left eye and licking his lips. "She's perfect. A ripe little bitch for the harvesting."_

_Red haze clouded Ban's sight and took over his mind. If he could have, he would have Jaganed this bastard into a thousand of the worst hells in an instant for even daring to think of visiting the degradation he was fantasizing about on Himiko. But Fudou could take advantage of Ban's concentration on the trance to kill him, and they both knew it._

_Ban found his voice; it came out low and cold and concrete-hard. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"_

_Fudou didn't take his eyes from Himiko. "I've been patient. I've held my tongue. 'By their fruits so shall ye know them.' Well, I haven't seen any fruits from our escapade, Midou. I feel like I've been cheated from what was promised me." He took another step, and then another, putting him within arm's reach of Himiko. Still, his voice remained low, quiet. "I'd be willing to accept a consolation prize as payment – "_

_He spun and caught Ban's hand before the punch could plant itself solidly in his face. "Ah, ah. Yamato-chan would be very disappointed in you, boy."_

Yamato would have killed you himself if he were here now, _Ban would have answered, but there was no more time for meaningless chatter. He drew back from Fudou and went over to Himiko's dresser where he knew she kept her bandolier of perfumes. He withdrew the sleeping potion and returned to the girl's bedside, flicking off the cork-seal and tipping the bottle so that its fumes trickled down into Himiko's nostrils, deepening her unconscious state._

_Ban looked up and glared death at Fudou, the full fury of the Serpent Bearer coiling inside his guts. "You want consolation? You want my blood, there's more where that came from. Outside. Now."_

_Fudou growled his assent, the challenge beginning a drumbeat battle lust in his blood. He'd always wanted a crack at Ban and to have the opportunity suddenly dropped into his lap was enough to make him temporarily forget about Himiko. He turned sharply on his heels and exited the room with Ban right behind him. _

_The backyard of the Kudous' current house was small, but not so shrunken that it wouldn't permit combatants enough room to maneuver. Even so, Ban knew there could be no mistakes in these close quarters. Too much depended on his coming out the winner this time. He forced himself to draw upon the cold vengeance of Aesclepius, to focus with unwavering ruthlessness, and when Fudou suddenly blinked and hissed the second-count with evil glee as he struck, Ban was ready for him._

_The fight was more terrible than the ones they'd had before. Each man was going for the kill now, each's respective hatred and rage built up to the boiling point where it was no longer containable. They ripped and tore at one another like wild dogs seeking the other's jugular. A few neighbors peeked out of windows or doors to see what all the racket was; none dared intervene once they saw the bloodied hulking mass of Fudou shrieking and beating Ban's face into the ground. _

_Far from being beaten, however, Ban was holding back, saving his best for last. He abruptly went limp in Fudou's hold, pretending to have passed out, having already realized that the process of the battle was just as much of an aphrodisiac to the psychotic thief as was the actual slaughter. Predictably, Fudou eased up, dripping sweat and blood all over himself and Ban as he panted for breath while he pondered his next action._

_"Martyrs are losers, Midou, you know that? The object of a fight is to win – to _kill. _You don't have the balls for it. But don't worry," Fudou said with a nasty cackle. "I'll see to it that your sweet little bitch piglet gets plenty of mine!" _

_Aesclepius tensed. Ban waited. Eternity stretched onward._

_"In the meantime, you can bleed to death out here on the cross I'll bury you with, listening to the pretty wet music we make. It will be your last memory upon this earth, witch-spawn." Fudou got up and started to walk away, ostensibly to find materials to fashion the cross he'd mentioned. _

_So wrapped up was he in his vile arrangements that he never heard Ban stealthily rise and stalk him – and he never had a chance to call upon second sight to foresee the violent conclusion of his abrupt defeat. The snake would have preferred the immediate swiftness of a fatal strike, Ban knew, and had he known ahead of time what the future would bring he would have wholeheartedly loosed Aesclepius fangs venom and all upon Fudou. As it was he had timed his calculations to the result he wanted, and so instead of killing the scumbag outright, the crushing snap of Ban's Snakebite came away with half of a bloody stump that used to be Fudou's left arm. It was enough._

_"Promise made. Promise kept," Ban spat at Fudou's retreating form. "The next time I see you it will be your head!"_

_"The next time I see you, Midou, I'll KILL YOU!" Fudou screamed as he stumbled into the street trailing blood every which way and clutching his severed arm. "DO YOU HEAR ME, MIDOU!? I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! BASTARD WITCH FILTH! YOUR BLOOD IS MINE!" He was still ranting blocks away before disappearing into an alley; Ban could only hope that the piece of shit bled to death in the rest of the garbage or got picked up by the cops, whichever happened first. _

_When Yamato came home he asked Ban why he looked as though he'd been in a bad fight, and Ban told him the partial truth, that Fudou had unexpectedly shown up wanting money for his part in the failed jewel scheme. He explained his injuries as ones gained in the fight with the thug, and Yamato believed him because he'd seen what Fudou was capable of and knew that Ban lacked for little in strength and will. He laughed heartily when Ban told him how he'd shredded Fudou's arm and described the expression on the thief's face as he'd done it._

_Ban conveniently omitted the part where Fudou had threatened Himiko. Neither brother nor sister, he'd decided, needed to know about it. If the price for his sins was silence, he would happily pay it just to see that his family remained safe._

--

"Of course," Ban concluded with a grim smile, "that was before all the curse crap started in and I wound up screwing things up anyway." He caught Akabane studying him with a small frown. "What?"

Akabane pursed his lips. "I think I _will_ kill Fudou-san the next time our paths cross," he declared.

Ban sat up completely and grasped his shoulders. "No, you won't."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to."

Akabane's mouth hung open. "But after what you just told me, about Himiko-san – "

"Trust me," Ban stressed. "He won't bother her anymore. I doubt if he even remembers she still exists. It's me he's dying to waste now. Himiko was just an easy icing on the cake at the time. Fudou's always wanted to eliminate me; the arm just cinched it for him."

Akabane shook his head, his scowl turning fiercer. "It isn't wise to let your enemies roam unchecked, Midou-kun. If you won't dispose of this threat, _I _will. I won't let him spoil our fun together."

Ban's voice grew quieter, though his exasperation with his lover's fanatical purpose remained. "You shouldn't sink to his level."

"How would I be doing that?"

"Look, Akabane," Ban sighed. "At least when you do it, you have a reason. Plus you discriminate between targets. It's part of your contract. And you don't inflict a lot of pain on them either, just one slash and bam, dead. Fudou doesn't have any such standards. He'd just as soon as kill somebody as spit on them, and if they put up a fight, he makes it even harder on them because the more they suffer, the more pleasure he gets.

"But the thing about killing for revenge is that one taste of blood is never enough. The more you do it, the more natural it starts to feel, and the less value you put on life. You start craving it after a while – you already know what that's like, don't you? Pretty soon you're swimming in so much blood that it gets old after a while. It gets to where you have to kill to live because nothing else is worth sticking around for. That's what true weakness is, surviving only for the blood of others. It's a hard and sad and endless road I'm just not willing to travel any more."

Ban was pleased to note that Akabane's eyes had taken on a somewhat shaken cast. He pulled the other man into his arms and stroked his hair.

"I don't want to see Doctor Jackal become another Fudou, Akabane. You have too much life left in you for that."

The transporter's voice was softer now. "But what if Fudou-san tries to hurt you again like he did in Mugenjou?"

Ban shrugged. "Easy. We just stay the hell away from that place." His smile straightened itself back out into seriousness. "It's real simple. I beat him then, I beat him in Mugenjou – twice, mind you – and I'll beat him again if he ever messes with me. He knows he can't win, it's just that his synapses are so fried by now that it's all he knows how to do. Sooner or later he'll do himself in without any help from me, I promise you that."

Akabane reluctantly gave in. "All right. But I can't say that I won't step in if I happen to be with you when he attacks."

Ban chuckled and nuzzled his cheek. "Well then, yeah, I'd want you to do something. You think I'm crazy _and_ stupid?"

--

Rainy days mean indoor days, unless clients come calling with an attractive offer. Today is devoid of visitors or electronic notices, so Ban and Akabane have chosen to spend the storm gathered on the couch, watching movies. Ginji, the lucky bastard, is spending the weekend living it up at the hot springs with Hevn, Paul, Natsumi and the Honky Tonk's new hire, Rena – rain tends to depress him otherwise.

A tray has been established nearby, laden with snacks and drinks and all such appropriate fuel for movie marathoning. They've taken turns picking out films to see, and discord is sown as soon as Akabane spies Ban's next choice.

"Midou-kun...why don't we try to find something a little more amusing?"

"C'mon, this is right up your alley. Fights, blood, action...all the good things a growing Jackal craves," Ban says as he pops open the DVD case.

"I can appreciate the historical value of these documentaries that you enjoy," Akabane says, rather stiffly. "But I'm afraid I don't find gun battles to be particularly appealing."

"Relax. There's a couple of sword-fights in this too, if I'm not mistaken. Besides, I'm supposed to have this one back to Paul by tomorrow. It's a limited-edition special the stores don't carry. He had to go through one of his contacts to get it for me for cheap."

Resigned to the fact that he's been outvoted, Akabane musters his patience and resolve, and settles down beside his lover while Ban starts the film.

Within the first five minutes Akabane realizes he's made a grievous mistake.

It's only a movie. Not real. These are merely actors, fictional characters in makeup and costumes, reenacting a scenario long-removed from modern times, a bloody spectacle that most likely did not go exactly as is depicted onscreen. Yet the line between reality and creation is blurred, and becomes even more so when that grenade explodes and tears off a soldier's left leg and half of his face and the man, or what is left of him, is blown backwards into the red mush that used to be his comrade, and Akabane sits perfectly frozen in front of this macabre show because he's had a front-row seat at that same terrible ballet of death played out in full surround sound and Technicolor fury a hundred times. A hundred times, a thousand times, ten thousand times...he's long since lost track of the precise numbers.

Ban seems intent on tracking the more technical aspects of the documentary. "My grandmother told me once she had a cousin whose family lived near the border where this was filmed," he says. "They had to pack up what they could carry in the middle of the night and make the journey to the river so they could stow away on one of the ferries that would take them to safer territory. The invading armies would've steamrolled them if they'd stayed."

"Ahh," Akabane says, feeling compelled to add a polite note of acknowledgement of this trivia, despite the unease knitting a cold, hard rock in his stomach. He sneaks a glance at the cover of the DVD case: the movie is supposed to last for only an hour. Compared with some of the other films they've watched today, an hour isn't that long. Surely he can bear this discomfort for just a little while, for his lover's sake. He tries to send his mind wandering elsewhere, away from the screams and bullet-riddled troops.

But it's hard to concentrate on peaceful forest cottages when his own horror is dragged in gruesome detail from the murky depths of memory and he is forced to endure and perish along with the men on the television, over and over and over...

Ban would argue that no one is making him watch this. But Akabane can't bring himself to move, even though he knows he should before battles imagined and battles festering worsen. He knows that Ban likes to have him close for the companionship; watching television by oneself is not quite as entertaining as when sharing the view.

Truly, Akabane is loath to deny his lover this indulgence – and even more reluctant to admit defeat to something as pathetic as anxiety over a silly film, just because it reminds him of things he'd rather not recall - so he forces down the sour tide rising in the back of his throat and wills his mind to focus on something else besides the time the camp was attacked and one soldier was brought to the infirmary in pieces from the booby trap set upon him.

Akabane reminds himself sternly that these glimpses of hell were long ago passed, from another time and place. Do not dwell on the past, it is useless. Only the present matters and this hour too will drain its sands and then the unpleasantness will be over. He is strong, stronger by far than the weakling who journeyed to those far corners and found only failure all those years ago. An explicit documentary surely does not faze Doctor Jackal, who could easily dish out enough real blood to match the gallons spilled by the special effects artists.

The restraint does work, after a time: Akabane manages to hold his carefully polished poise, compelling himself to stare directly at the screen's gore and ignore the all-too-familiar stabbing of the brutal memories enabled. To look away, no matter how slight, would be an act of cowardice. Akabane has survived these and other calamities. He is strong. He does not fear such things. He has no cause to. That man, on the television, writhing and screaming on the operating table as the surgeons use a hacksaw to remove the gangrenous stumps of his legs, _does not exist in any other time _but the documentary's, because this is only a reenactment of events and is not in any way shape or form a reflection of true experiences Kuroudo Akabane may have once witnessed.

He loses his precious control when the doctor surfaces during the next scene.

The physician is not that old, for his hair has only just begun to silver at the edges. Still, it's a reflection of how this battle's aftermath, and others like it, have worn away the doctor's vitality. He moves slowly, expression sorrowful, bracing himself to break the news to an anxious captain that one of the men under his command has not survived emergency surgery.

Akabane is only vaguely aware that his lips have begun to form the words he knows are coming next, mouthing the spiel well before the doctor onscreen has started speaking. He doesn't have to guess at the platitudes that will be offered. He knows exactly which words will be used to soften the fatal blow. He knows...

...because he has had to use them too many times before.

The knot building in his stomach twists so savagely then that it feels as if his innards are tearing themselves to pieces. Fearing that he'll further humiliate himself by submitting to a complete breakdown, Akabane quickly gets up and leaves, praying that Ban is too absorbed in the viewing to take much notice – his lover has by now grown (mostly) used to Akabane's eccentricities and sudden leave-taking isn't usually a remarkable incident.

He goes into their bedroom, heading for the bathroom. Inside, he shuts the door and turns on the faucet in the sink to drown out the sounds of his dry heaves as he huddles over the basin, pressing his sweat-dampened forehead roughly against the cool assurance of the spigot while he shudders and chokes on the bitter memories that are his cross, his shame alone to bear.

The technical term for it is post-traumatic stress disorder, though it goes by many other names. Combat fatigue. Shell-shock. Whatever moniker one uses to describe it, the effects remain the same. They will be with him forever, whether or not he chooses to acknowledge them – and oftentimes, the most that he will ever admit to is their mere existence, not the emotions inherent that are associated with and inseparable from. It is, after all, useless to dwell on the past, futile to salvage a lost cause.

Hence the resurgence of his other half, that cold calculation which takes over to soothe the panic threatening to drown him in its own kind of blood...only to saturate him with a new thirst that can only be slaked by one thing.

Akabane grasps the sides of the sink basin with both hands, mashing his forehead into the spigot so roughly it will be a miracle if no permanent indentation is left there. The cold smoothness of the metal is a grounder for his anxiety, the sensation a calming focus amidst an internal hurricane of chaos. His eyes are closed tight as he pants softly, trying to pull himself back from that edge which _demands _cutting, a horribly familiar tingling in his veins, in his palms, a furious power which if not adequately suppressed will erupt with disastrous consequences.

Doctor Jackal would never be so weak.

Akabane slowly lifts his head, the stinging in his skin from where he pressed against the spigot giving him additional distraction. He remembers this man, in the mirror, looking back at him with the same haunted amethyst that once became a miserably familiar sight. A million pleas still linger in that broken gaze, but just as before, they will go unanswered. Akabane breaks the stare and splashes the still-running cold water on his face, his neck, several times, slicking his damp hands over the thick strands of hair that hang in his eyes and pushing that dark curtain away from his chilled skin.

That man – that stranger – is long gone. No use in revisiting old wounds. The man known then as Doctor Kuroudo died as brutal a death as any the soldiers under his care suffered in the bloody hell they all shared.

Akabane lowers his hands – which are bare on casual days like this; Ban has persuaded him to forgo his gloves in the privacy of their home - and stares at them as he sinks to his knees on the tiled floor, torn by the desperate wish to throw up what doesn't currently exist in his stomach, torn by the raging lust that screams for appeasement as twisted salvation from this eternal damnation. Long pale fingers flex and four perfect daggers shoot out from between them. Akabane's hand shakes as he turns his fist so that the knife points are positioned blade-side down above the scar on his empty hand.

He wants to. He _needs_ to. It's the only thing that will stop the thundering drumbeat in his head that's snarling for blood, for the taste of it, drink it up, soak in it, _revel in it, this is your destiny, little jackal, until your cursed fate is ended –_

He doesn't do it because he knows that if he starts with one trickle, even just a small one, he'll keep cutting and keep cutting and keep cutting, cutting cutting cutting, until there's nothing left, and if he starts now, he'll never stop.

Akabane pays no attention to the soft keening he makes as he shudders and forces the scalpels to retreat inside his body. Another whine clogs in his suddenly swollen throat, and he slumps over and curls his thin body, still shaking like a reed in a windstorm, into a tight fetal position. All he can do now is ride out the tide until it crests, and the only way to do that is to cling to the one raft that had kept him afloat during other such episodes.

He wills his mind away from the repeating horrors of slaughter and the stench of death, and into a perfect white blankness. He sees nothing. He hears nothing. He feels nothing. Not even the reminder of Ban's oddly comforting strength can penetrate this shroud of pure silence, a tomb into which he has put all of his very human traits – emotions, thoughts, feelings, hopes, fears – and buried them back where they are safest kept out of light.

With sheer restraint of will, the mental capacity has shut down, and with it, the physical follows as his body's tremors subside into stillness, his breathing slows from a harsh gasping to a quiet inhalation, his muscles softening into laxness. Akabane has, for all intents and purposes, rendered himself into a catatonic state.

Some time later – how much later, he isn't sure – the blinking reflex begins reasserting itself, and slowly, slowly he makes his journey back from the exile of his mind. The cacophony that was shrieking earlier is gone, replaced by calm, perfect coolness. Controlled, as it should be.

Akabane carefully sits up, his muscles stiff from having lain in such a cramped position for a lengthy time. He stretches and gets to his feet, wobbling slightly because the stress response has left him feeling drained and somewhat lightheaded.

The faucet is still running. He turns it off and studies his bedraggled reflection in the mirror. Not so good. Akabane finger-combs his hair into an acceptable shaggy neatness and practices smiling several times. He is relieved to note that his skin, though plenty pale, no longer appears to be sweating as profusely as it was earlier.

Nothing can be done for his hopelessly wrinkled shirt and trousers, except to discard them in the laundry hamper and change into fresh clothing. Pondering what to wear and what excuses he could give for this switch, Akabane exits the bathroom and comes face to face with Ban.

"Wondered where you disappeared to. It's your turn to pick the next movie," Ban says.

Akabane nods, more as a reflexive response to being spoken to than a real acknowledgement of the other man's words. His mind has been sent frantically scrambling backwards, caught in that awkward lurch between conscious thought and mental block. He still hasn't told Ban about certain things which pertain to his past. He doesn't know how his lover will handle it, and Akabane isn't sure he's brave enough to risk exposing his rawest wounds to anyone, even the one who could possibly understand him the most.

Ban suspects something's up anyway. He raises a brow. "Hey, you don't look so good. Coming down with something?"

It would be so easy to lie. Just nod and say yes. Headache, a touch of indigestion, just feeling under the weather...any of these might suffice as a viable excuse. Akabane's lips part, the tip of his tongue preparing to put these words into audible form.

Instead, what comes out is this: 

"I...I can't...I can't...watch things...like that any more, Midou-kun..."

One of the reasons Akabane hates giving in to his emotions is the fact that they so easily betray him. He can't help the wild hammering of his heart in his chest, or the burn of humiliation in his cheeks at his reckless admission. He knows it's dangerous to look directly into those unfathomable blue eyes, but he's powerless to resist their allure, and he hates himself for that weakness even more...even as he hungers for it, can't get enough of it, Ban's unique strength, Ban's inexplicable gentleness the nourishment for his starved soul.

Ban absorbs these words easily, not saying anything for a few minutes in the terse silence that follows. He steps closer to Akabane, stopping only when he sees the way his lover's body has automatically tensed, his back pressed against the closed bathroom door. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Akabane manages to hold their eye contact. "No."

Ban nods. He moves in slowly and kisses Akabane's forehead. "Okay."

_I'll wait, for as long as it takes,_ his silent acceptance seems to reassure a nervous Akabane, who watches his lover calmly turn and start to walk out of the bedroom. He can't quite believe that Ban, who's usually unstoppable in pursuit of his interests, is actually willing to let the uncomfortable subject rest.

Impulsively, he starts to reach out to the other man. "Midou-kun?"

Ban pauses. "Yeah?"

Akabane bites his lower lip, feeling foolish and unusually vulnerable. He wishes they could just pretend that this incident never happened, but there is no help for it now. He lowers his dark eyes to the floor, shrugging. "Nothing."

Ban doesn't say anything. He comes back to Akabane and pulls him into an embrace. They stand this way for several minutes, holding each other. Akabane is grateful for the fact that his face is turned away from Ban's, for his lover cannot see the suspicious shine building in his eyes that he's desperately trying to keep from spilling over.

Ban suddenly speaks, his warm breath tickling Akabane's skin as quiet words caress his ear. "Hey, Jackal. It takes a special kind of strength to trust somebody else with your baggage. I may not have been in the same place you were, but I know what it's like to feel like you're drowning in red darkness. Because you were right, you know. We're the same."

The admission makes Akabane's heart give a little throb. He's reminded of the underlying taint he has always sensed in his lover even before they became involved with each other, an undercurrent of dark power at least as lethal as his own. In a sense they are blood-kin, bound to each other by the crimson paths fate has set them on. It makes Akabane adore Ban all the more for this shared understanding.

Their embrace eases and they look at each other, though neither's arms have released the other. Akabane swallows a few times to moisten his throat, and at last murmurs, "Thank you, Midou-kun."

He doesn't understand this – this wave of uneasy relief that's settling over his shoulders. Nor does he get the equally as strong desire to draw Ban close again in a fierce clasp and never let go. The only thing he's familiar with – too familiar – is the intense urge to unsheathe his scalpels and once and for all, slay these terrifying emotions that have plagued him for so long.

Wanting to protect something, to care for and cherish it, let it not just survive but be _alive_ – is this – is this –

"Love those pretzels, don't you, Jackal? I gotta find out from Paul where he buys those things." Ban smiles – a small one, but an affectionate one nonetheless. "What's the name of that black-and-white flick you like so much? The one with the two old ladies that like to go around poisoning people?"

_"Arsenic and Old Lace._ It's a classic."

"Go start it up. I'll join you in a minute after I pay homage to the porcelain gods."

"All right. Midou-kun..."

"Hmm?"

Akabane hesitates, searching for the words he needs. He wants not only to convey his profound gratitude but to confess to Ban the secret he's kept hidden all this time, even from himself...if only he could find the proper way to present his offering.

_To love is to be willingly weak, and only the truly strong are able to place their trust in another...especially one who is as fallen._

"Midou-kun?"

"Yeah?"

Akabane licks his lips. "I'm glad that...that I lost to you. That day in Mugenjou - "

Ban's eyebrow lifts slightly, but other than that he doesn't seem very surprised. "You know something, Jackal?"

"Mm?"

Blue eyes twinkle, and an enigmatic smile curls upward. "I think we both won that day."

-----


	25. The Language Of Love part 1

Title: The Language of Love  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #4 – "our distance and that person"

Rating: R (violence, language, disturbing war imagery)

Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for both Ban's and Akabane's pasts.

Notes: A companion piece to Crossroads, so it will make more sense if you've read that one.

- Don't worry, Kagami fans. I may love to torment him, but he doesn't die in this. Really.

- Due to recent health issues and fic length, I'm posting this one in chapters.  
Disclaimer: I'd love to own GB's wonderful characters, but guess what? I don't. :cries:  
Summary: Call to me, and I will hear you even in the distance…

--

_I: Awakening _

_That does it. No more snacks before bedtime,_ Ban vowed, rubbing away the crust of evaporating visions from his eyes as Medusa the cat staked her claim on his lap. He shivered, reliving the last several moments of the whopper he'd just had. He and Akabane had been traveling on some kind of cruise ship that had sunk after slamming broadside into an iceberg. The memory of being dragged under the freezing water by the suction of the sinking ship was still fresh, and he clutched the bedcovers tightly.

Normally he wasn't one to put much stock in dreams borne of slumber, but the ones he'd been having lately had given him pause for thought. Ironic, considering that he had the power to weave illusions for others out of sheer will.

Never in his wildest imaginings had Ban ever dreamed that he'd end up with someone, anyone, much less someone like Akabane. He was used to being alone, had spent the majority of his life in solitude despite being surrounded at times by various relatives and acquaintances. At first, when the exasperated tolerance he'd felt when initially dealing with Akabane had melded into a more mellow acceptance of their mutual attraction to one another, Ban had been content to accept the casual comforts of such a relationship. They got along reasonably well (minus the fighting), had enough interests in common, had great sex, and made one hell of a team when working together, both with and without Ginji.

Now things had changed, shifted ever-so-slightly into a paradigm where they had fumbled beyond acceptance into a cautious intimacy that was alien to both of them, for various personal reasons. Talking took place more often than fighting these days, pieces and patchworks cobbled together of each other's lives, thoughts, feelings, unearthed as painstakingly as any buried treasure. A unique trust – once a concept so foreign to Ban, until Ginji had demonstrated to him that it needn't be completely beyond all reach – had flowered between them, and they found themselves asking questions that neither would have dared breach before.

Ban idly scratched Medusa's back while he contemplated this. He couldn't place exactly when this transition had happened, but the difference between then and now was starkly illustrated for him one day not long ago when they had been sparring. Never one to pull punches, Akabane had launched a restrained attack against Ban that the latter had had little difficulty in blocking. Ban remembered the sly twinkle of purple eyes in his face, and the tiny quirk at the corner of his lover's mouth made clear that Akabane was purposely holding back, that he was aware of it, and that this decision wasn't derived solely from a sense of personal amusement at the other man's expense. After that it got harder for Ban to deliver his own blows, even though they'd done this plenty of times in the past without regard to the potential for serious damage – they were both tough enough to withstand most anything the other dealt.

Ban had never been particularly concerned with the consequences of physical altercations he had with the few people he considered close – though he would never have brought malicious harm to Ginji or Himiko, he wasn't shy about handing out a few good smacks to either of them if he felt they deserved it. This had been the case with Akabane as well, during the early stages of their relationship, until Ban quickly learned that such actions could provoke a storm of violence he wasn't prepared to take on, since Akabane misinterpreted them as invitations to battle. Jackal soon adapted to his lover's prickly nature as easily as one accepts the changes in weather, and was quite tolerant in allowing Ban all manner of abuse, up to and including the occasional pummeling in response to something he said or did that irritated Ban.

These days, something in Ban rebelled at the idea of causing harm, however slight, to a person he had begun to care about in a way that exceeded the boundaries of friendship or exasperated tolerance. If Ginji was his brother in the spiritual sense, and Himiko his sister, then Akabane was a kindred soul, a match highlighted by the jackal's own intrigue and willingness to lay aside old wounds in favor of exploring this new avenue of interest. In scaling back his unappealing hobbies, Akabane was almost amusingly eager to please, hungering for attention the way an adoring pet might try to prove its loyalty to an owner – but like a cat aware of its self-image in the eyes of others, he was reserved in how he chose to express his affections. When it was just the two of them, alone, they both found it easier to indulge their emotions.

Ban pondered the dream he'd had, and others similar to it. The night before he'd dreamt that he was speeding down the freeway in the Ladybug, and Akabane had been headed towards him in the opposite direction in his associate No-Brakes' truck. The previous night before that he'd dreamt that they were racing around the top towers of Mugenjou and had ended up clashing in a hold that sent them spinning off solid footing into oblivion. There had been others that had woken him in a sweaty, anxious grip of unease.

Could this latest one be a slice of evidence, proof that fate intended for them to remain eternal adversaries? Was the relationship that they'd managed to create, in spite of all odds, headed for eventual destruction?

Ban didn't like to think about that. It involved opening up the way for other, hidden ideas and truths he was ashamed to admit that he was…afraid…of facing up to. He covered his disturbance with extra sarcasm and gruffness, and if anyone else tried to bring up certain subjects to him he'd shut them down in an instant. He'd even nearly bitten off Ginji's head.

That made him feel guilty, which in turn made him feel more anxious, which made him twice as cantankerous. Poor clueless, eternally softhearted and wonderful Ginji. For all his prowess as a former gang leader he was in many ways ill-equipped to grasp the challenges of the real world. Most Mugenjou denizens were, Ban had noticed. As unpleasant and disturbing a place that was, it was self-contained, a world unto itself, and the rules inside vastly differed from the outside's schedule. Institutionalized, they called it. Somehow Ginji had managed to transcend that baser environment while retaining an unsullied core.

There was still the threat of Raitei, of course. But that was easily dealt with so long as they stayed the hell away from the infinite fortress, whose mysterious atmosphere seemed to draw out the savage in Ginji – and in Akabane – almost like blood through a needle. Mugenjou, Ban knew in his heart of hearts, was more than just a virtual mix of real and alter worlds – it was a strange, chaotic magic centered along principles of its faceless creators' doings.

And magic, he well knew, came in many forms.

Names, for instance. A name was more than just a form of address. It held valuable clues to the essence of a thing, or a person. Entire theologies had been devoted to the naming of children alone.

In naming what could not otherwise be clarified with spoken language, one attained a sort of power over that which formerly escaped and defied categorizing. It was one of the key principles Ban's grandmother had drilled into him from an early age, and sometimes it scared him to think on just how much of her instruction had stuck with him, despite his attempts to rebuff or even ignore it. Much though he hated to admit it, that knowledge had saved his butt on more than one occasion.

In putting a label, a name, on the unorthodox relationship he and Akabane shared, Ban would have had to admit what shook him to his deepest core. That vulnerability wasn't something he was certain he could risk in its entirety.

Or could he?

_The future isn't written,_ he'd said to Ginji and Makubex when the latter expressed his despair over the predictions said to have originated from the Archive, the entity through which the lords of Babylon City drew their inspiration. A couple of bizarre nightmares didn't necessarily mean that fate or the gods or whoever had it in for Ban Midou.

Unless, of course, they actually did.

Given his history of being dogged by arcane factors and those that despised them, Ban wasn't entirely willing to discount that possibility. His own grandmother had set a god-patron on him, and one who was arguably less than thrilled about being bound to a mere corporeal form at that. Ban had always suspected that the real reason Aesclepius stuck with him was not simply because of the complex bonding spells invoked by the Witch Queen, but because the god had his own agenda at heart that necessitated his use of Ban as a medium to act upon the world. Aesclepius could be ruthlessly opportunistic that way – not unlike Ban himself, others might have pointed out.

Ignoring Medusa's indignant chirp as he stopped petting her, he sighed heavily and rested his face in his hands. Where, then, did Akabane play into this equation? By all rights they should be continually at each other's throats instead of shacking up together, much less falling – Ban shook his head.

It was hard, sometimes, to know exactly what was going on inside his boyfriend's mind. They'd made progress, but Akabane kept his own counsel more often than not, and had mastered the art of the runaround reply so that by the time questioning lost its appeal, nothing of substantial value had ever been gained. By all appearances, he appeared content with his lot. But were the hints of something deeper than mutual affection for real, or just a smokescreen for Jackal's own shifty nature?

Some part of Ban argued that this was the real thing, and not just because he wanted to believe it was so. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out how to bridge that gap he felt still existed between Akabane and himself – and keep the both of them alive in the process.

--

_II: Tongues and Tales_

The afternoon was running slow. Hevn hadn't called and none of the flyers he and Ginji had plastered all over town were garnering any responses, and he didn't feel like sitting around the apartment all day, so Ban decided to get some fresh air. Akabane was out on a job; the transporter wouldn't return until late.

He prowled the downtown area for a while, not finding much to interest him, although he wasn't really looking anyway. The dream from this morning and his subsequent musings had taken up precedence in his mind.

Small wonder, then, that he eventually found his way into a bar he'd liked to frequent back when Yamato was still alive. They'd occasionally come here to locate contacts, and Yamato had introduced Ban to the joys of alcohol. After Yamato's death and before he met Ginji, Ban had found dreary solace in the bottoms of many an ale mug as he'd drunk himself into a stupor. The only reason he hadn't descended into flat-out alcoholism was because his pride was too stubborn to permit him that disgrace.

When he entered the bar he was gratified to see that not many patrons were milling about. It was early. Ban sat down in a back corner, preferring to drink and watch and be alone with his restless thoughts.

It was when the server brought him his order that he felt a peculiar sensation, like the prickles of an insect's legs on his skin. Irritated at the idea that some nosy teetotaler might be spying on his broodfest, Ban chanced a scowling look over his shoulder and froze as the hair on the back of his neck jumped to attention. His memory was still fresh from the Venus incident, even if he and the Mirokus had later settled on an uneasy truce. Ban turned back to his drink, wondering if it was worth the risk to approach Natsuhiko.

The other man gave him little time to make his decision. Just as Ban had decided to toss out some coins for his beer and leave a hand clapped down on his shoulder and a cool voice murmured near his ear. "Fancy meeting you here, stranger."

Ban fought the urge to throw off the hand touching him, until Natsuhiko had withdrawn to the seat next to him. He regarded his former childhood friend with wary studiousness. "You're not here on business, are you?"

Indigo eyes fixed him with a level stare. "Are you here on retrieval interests?"

"No."

"Then I'd say you have nothing to worry about," Natsuhiko returned smoothly, tapping one side of his beer mug with a finger.

"Seeing your bunch is always cause for worry," Ban grumbled, sloshing away the last of his beer. He signaled the bartender for another round – might as well get thoroughly soused if he was going to hang around Miroku.

"Still as argumentative as ever," the other man chuckled. "I suppose it's nice to know that some things never change." Natsuhiko sipped his beer and they sat in silence for several minutes while Ban's fresh glass arrived and he drained a fourth of it before they returned to conversing.

"You ever get paid for your stint as a protector on the Venus job, or did your employer stiff you after we got away with the arms?" Ban asked, mainly because he couldn't think of anything else to discuss and that mess was something they could both relate to, even if from opposite ends.

"We were paid. As unpleasant a woman as Hera-san was to deal with, she was honorable in her word. That much I can give her." Natsuhiko glanced at Ban and when next the retriever blinked, he was facing Yukihiko.

"How's Ginji-kun doing?"

Ban looked into the swirls of foam decorating the inner sides of his mug. "He's fine."

Yukihiko smiled. "Please tell him I said hello." Ban nodded and looked up again to find Natsuhiko back in place.

The other man offered a wry smile. "Had to let the squirt say his piece. He was quite taken with your friend when they met that time."

"Most people are when they get to know Ginji." In spite of himself Ban smiled, remembering his own initial encounter. "But you didn't come here to talk about that," he added after another drink of beer, suspicion coloring his tone.

Natsuhiko nodded. "I didn't."

"So what do you want?"

"Just to pass on something I heard recently."

Ban raised a brow. "It's not like you to bother with street gossip."

"Unless it's corroborated by legitimate sources." Natsuhiko's eyes narrowed slightly. He took a long pull at his lager before elaborating. "Word is that you've made a powerful enemy."

"Feh. Tell me something I don't know." Ban gulped another swig of ale.

"It's not something that would be terribly remarkable," Natsuhiko agreed, likewise having another drink. "However, in your case, I think it's noteworthy that you've almost single-handedly managed to incur the wrath of someone from a society as secretive and notorious as the Brain Trust."

"Tell them to take a number and get in line. They want their crack at me, they can wait for it like everyone else," Ban snapped.

Natsuhiko snorted. "I'd have thought witch hunts were a thing of the past for you after you left Germany. Don't tell me you're a nostalgic at heart?"

Ban remained silent, glowering at his drink.

Natsuhiko continued. "Is that why you seem to have fallen for a certain Jackal? The two of you make an interesting couple, I have to admit. And you do seem to have a lot in common. The love of the fight and first blood – "

Ban seized the other man's shirt at the neckline. "Cut the crap, Natsuhiko. We're not here to talk about history."

It wasn't Natsuhiko who replied, however. In the next instant Ban found himself shoved roughly backwards by a sneering Ukyo. "You're a dumb motherfucker, aren't you?"

"Speak for yourself. Put Natsuhiko back, asshole!"

"Fine. I didn't want to talk to your sorry ass anyway," the Miroku hissed. "But if you have any fuckin' brains whatsoever you'll pay attention to my brother. You're in deep shit, Midou, only you're too fuckin' clueless to realize just how far down the poop-pit goes."

"That's enough, Ukyo," a stern tone barked. It was Ukyo's mouth forming the words, but Natsuhiko's was the voice emanating from it, and a second later Ban was looking at the head Miroku himself. If Natsuhiko was unsettled by his brother's crude warning he didn't show it, although his eyes appeared a trace more apprehensive than before. Ban felt a stirring of unease again and wondered if there really was such a thing as fate...

Natsuhiko spoke again. "I won't say that you're in any immediate danger. But there are those who have a window on you. Sooner or later they plan to make their move. I hope for your sake you're prepared to counteract their actions should such a day ever come."

Ban glared at him. "Is that a threat?"

Natsuhiko looked thoughtful. "Consider it a piece of advice from an old friend."

He rose, leaving his half-empty mug on the countertop, and set a hand on Ban's shoulder as he leaned over with a parting murmur.

"Watch your back, Ban. These are strange times we're living in. Who knows what kinds of demons are lurking beneath our noses."

Ban frowned. Strange times indeed, if he could have a conversation with Natsuhiko without it turning into ugly accusation over events long past. He whirled around in his seat then, intending to demand what the hell the other man had meant by that, but the only thing he saw was a flurry of white coat clearing the door, and then Natsuhiko was gone.

--

His old friend's information continued to grate on him like a raw blister, which left Ban in a persistent sour mood even when Akabane arrived home early and they decided to go to the Honky Tonk for coffee and pizza. Akabane tried to greet Ban with a kiss and found himself abruptly rebuffed; puzzled as to what had annoyed his lover but not overly concerned, he chalked it up to Ban's having had a bad day and left it at that.

They entered the Honky Tonk and found the usual assortment of rag-tags gathered – thread-spool, monkey-man, touchy-feely massager and the samurai boy wonder. Shido must have been in a particularly foul state because he immediately started in on Ban, and it wasn't long before Toshiki joined in, the two of them haranguing the retriever with all manner of insults designed to spark off a riot.

Ban did his best to ignore them for the most part. With Natsuhiko's words on his mind he didn't feel like devoting his energies to a battle of wits with those morons. His silence encouraged them, and the nasty taunts kept flying. Since Ginji was absent on a visit to Makubex, they considered Ban fair game for their smear campaign.

Occasionally Akabane would sip his tea and look from Ban to the others, baffled as to both the reason for the hostile escalation and his lover's obvious refusal to take up the gauntlet. Finally he set his cup down and stood up.

"Jackal," Ban muttered warningly around a mouthful of leftover pizza crust, sensing trouble brewing.

Akabane walked over to the gang's table. "Excuse me. I'll thank you to stop that, if you please."

It was as if an iron curtain of silence had suddenly been dropped over the Honky Tonk. Rena's dishes clattered to a halt; Paul's newspaper rustling instantly stilled. Kazuki's and Juubei's conversation went mute. Even Ban was left staring.

If Emishi Haruki had been present, he doubtless would've invented some lame joke about the looming stillness crackling with more tension than his whip.

For his part, Shido was feeling just ornery enough to push the verbal envelope. He leveled a glare at Akabane and growled, "We're not saying anything that isn't true, you know."

"Perhaps." Akabane held the glare with one of his own, his slender brows creasing minutely the way they were wont to do on the rare occasions he was truly angered. "I still don't appreciate your slandering of Midou-kun."

Toshiki snorted. "Well, maybe we don't appreciate his attitude. Did that ever occur to you?"

Akabane's smile was ice. "Such ingratitude for the man who once saved your life."

"Shut up." Toshiki's face had turned a reddish hue. He didn't like thinking about that incident where Ban had had to revive him via mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. "We both did what we had to do. That doesn't change the fact that he's a backstabbing bastard with a forked tongue."

"How odd. Midou-kun has never lied to me before." Akabane cocked his head at them. "Are you perhaps referring to the dispersal of Ginji-kun's former gang and the subsequent dissolution of your association with Fuuchoin Kazuki-san and Kakei Juubei-san? I assure you, such events probably would have happened in time even without Ginji-kun's leaving. Midou-kun is just a convenient scapegoat to blame your dissatisfaction on."

The snarl rising in Toshiki's throat was proof that Akabane's words had hit home. "What do _you _know about anything? Mugenjou was fine before that snake came along and screwed it all up. We had order. We had peace. We had our friends – our _family,"_ Toshiki spat bitterly. "A heartless killer like you wouldn't know about any of that."

"Toshiki – " Kazuki put a hand on the blond's forearm in a futile attempt to restrain him.

"Us, on the other hand, we're loyal to each other. We take care of one another's backs. And from what I've heard, you're more likely to carve up a person's back than protect it." Toshiki stood and jabbed a finger into Akabane's chest. "So don't you tell me how I should or shouldn't behave around people my gut tells me not to trust."

Akabane's calm mask didn't waver. "I can't say as I'm surprised that you would cling so stubbornly to your self-delusions. Humans are notoriously resistant to the idea of change." He glanced at Toshiki's clenched fists, noting the white-knuckled strain. "You fought in the Beltline, did you not? You lived for years in Mugenjou, eking out a living as a hired thug. Can you honestly say that such a place was truly in order and at peace? Was it ever? At least half of the denizens you call friends and family there don't even exist as flesh and blood constructs. Do you think they will ever really know what it is to feel alive? Is it possible for them to die at all? Or do they go on living as puppets in a macabre play, heedless of the moment when their rulers flip the switches to decide who remains onstage and who goes out in a blip of electrodes?"

"Why should you care?" Toshiki snarled. "You were going to help them destroy Makubex when you agreed to transport bomb materials!"

"And you were helping them to destroy Kazuki-san and Juubei-san by agreeing to collaborate with Kurusu Masaki-san," Akabane shot back swiftly. "I daresay you have no firm ground to stand upon when it comes to claiming higher morals, Toshiki-san. Until you do, I think you ought to refrain from criticizing anyone else's choices."

"Oh yeah? Let's see you criticize this!"

Rena screamed and Shido bellowed, as Toshiki swung at Akabane. Even before the first punch had been thrown Ban was already up and out of his seat, intending to grab his lover and drag him away from the group in hopes of preventing a bloodbath in the very literal sense of the word. Toshiki may have been strong but everyone except he himself knew he was no match for Dr. Jackal's lightning-quick blades.

Kazuki and Juubei had had the same thought as well and were likewise moving to pull Toshiki away with string and hold him at needlepoint, lest the challenge go too far.

Akabane was faster. He caught the blow, held it, and wrenched his opponent's arm until Toshiki was howling in agony. In the next moment the blond's back was crashing into the wall and a spray of silver surrounded his exposed throat as scalpels burst from a white glove.

Everyone froze.

Stony purple met electric blue as Toshiki found himself staring into the face of his certain death. Akabane smiled, but there was no warmth in it, only a cold edge sharpened with a hunter's razor instincts that craved blood.

He spoke quietly, slowly. "Know that I hold your life in my hands at this instant." The knives holding Toshiki hostage poked into his skin, scratching tiny beads of red to the surface. "I could kill you with a flick of my wrist, slice open your carotid artery and watch you drown in your own blood." His voice cut as coldly and cruelly as his knives. A scalpel protruded from Akabane's free hand and nicked a tiny spot of fabric from the belted coat around Toshiki's waist. "I could eviscerate you with my mark and feel the heat from your steaming entrails as they pour from your belly."

No one breathed. No one moved.

Akabane withdrew his scalpels, and stepped back from his opponent.

"Know that today I choose not to do so, out of respect for those gathered here. May I recommend that in the future, you take the time to get to know someone before rushing to sit in judgment of them, Toshiki-san. Not all demons are inherently wicked." He cast a brief, softening look at Ban. "Midou-kun may not be the purest of heart, but neither is he as terrible as you would believe. If you still doubt this, you should ask Ginji-kun what _he_ thinks, and if your doubts persist, ask Kazuki-san if his former emperor is not correct in his estimations. The answers ought to give you something to think on."

He left a still-petrified Toshiki and a stunned Honky Tonk crowd in their places, approaching Paul with an offering of money for his and Ban's dinner and drinks. "My sincerest apologies, Wan-san. It was never my intent to cause a scene, I assure you."

Paul's throat worked for a second as the Adam's apple yo-yoed up and down. Finally he said, "Don't worry about it." He waved away the proffered currency, but didn't protest any further when Akabane laid it on the counter and walked out of the shop. Ban could feel everyone's eyes on him as he slunk after his lover.

--

Outside Akabane was standing on the curb, patiently waiting for Ban to join him. They fell into a measured stroll fraught with lethal possibility. Immediately, Ban knew not to say anything, in spite of the seething irritation he felt as a result of Akabane's well-meaning intentions. He sensed that they were balanced on the hair-point of an edge pointing toward a strange place where words might not mean what they were intended to, and the wrong conversation could have disastrous consequences. If anything was to be exchanged now Akabane must be the first to speak.

At length, he did. A slender arm wound itself around Ban's, the gloved hand gently squeezing his own. "I hope I haven't caused you any trouble back there, Midou-kun."

Ban fought the urge to snap at him and partially succeeded. "I can fight my own battles, you know," he muttered.

"I know," Akabane said. "But it's good to have someone at your back. No? After all, I am perfectly capable of handling any challenge directed to me, yet I appreciate it when Himiko-san stands watch for me on a job." He ignored Ban's low huff and said, "Do you think that Wan-san will be terribly upset with you and Ginji-kun as a result?"

"I probably won't be welcome back at the Honky Tonk for a while, but I doubt anyone will say anything more." Ban shrugged and squeezed Akabane's hand back, letting him know that his actions weren't entirely unappreciated. "I've heard a lot worse than the crap they were flinging."

Akabane glanced at him, a shade of something almost foreign in its sadness dimming his lavender eyes. "Is it not customary for lovers to defend each other's honor?" At the quirked brow he received in response he said, "It made me uncomfortable, hearing them talk about you like that."

"Don't worry about it. There isn't any epithet or slur that I haven't heard before," Ban said grimly, stopping to dig his smokes and lighter out and light one up. "When you grow up hearing almost nothing but, you desensitize yourself to it after a while. It's the only way to get through it without snapping your hinges." He paused. "Some of it actually is true. It's the way they have to constantly rub your face in it, that's what stings more than anything else."

"There's no shame in being yourself, Midou-kun. I could see that it hurt you." Akabane drew closer, hovering almost protectively near Ban. "It displeases me to see you upset."

He kissed Ban's cheek. "For what it's worth, I wouldn't have killed that boy in spite of what I said. Oh, he would have been a minor amusement in a fight, with such passion and fury, but in the end it would be over too quickly. And it was clear that Kazuki-san and Juubei-san were rather fond of him, even if he displays a fierce temper." Akabane cocked his head thoughtfully. "I think perhaps he is to them what you are to me. Hmm?"

Ban made a sound halfway between a grunt and a snort. "You could say that." He started walking back to their apartment, not feeling like talking any more about the merry trio that used to make up three-fourths of Fuuga.

Akabane followed, hurrying along in a way not unlike the kind of puppy-dog manner that Ginji often displayed, although his actual pace was restrained. "Midou-kun? Is something wrong? You seem worried."

"What?"

"You've been tense all day. I can tell that something's bothering you."

"Just some job stuff," Ban replied, not looking at him. "Money hasn't been coming in for a while, that's all."

"Mmm." Akabane's hum was clear in its implication: _you aren't fooling me._ "I can't help but have noticed, Midou-kun. Whenever the Get Backers are low on funds, Ginji-kun has a tendency to panhandle Wan-san instead of risking trips that might hamper his questionable sense of direction." A little chuckle. "He's quite vocal about his desire for food, isn't he?" He nodded at the cigarette that was fast immolating itself in Ban's fingers. "You smoke less because you're unable to purchase cigarettes due to the lack of money, and as a result, you pick more fights as you become more ill-tempered than usual because of the lack of nicotine in your body."

Ban wasn't about to relent. "Your point being?" he grumbled.

Akabane tilted his head a little. "I told you. I don't like to see you upset. You're nowhere near as much fun to be with when you're in a bad mood."

"So you're bored and want a fight, is that it?" Ban willed the flush heating up his skin to fade away before it could embarrass him. He knew he was treading on thin ice here, but dammit, Akabane didn't know when to quit and now it was beginning to piss him off.

The transporter pressed his case. "Not if you aren't going to be serious. You're acting as if you're a prey animal being hunted. I can tell," Akabane said knowingly. "I was serious when I said that it bothered me to see you being attacked by those people."

"And I told you," Ban said, clenching his teeth and trying his best not to lapse into an argumentative state. "It doesn't matter what those jackasses think. You could tell 'em I shit pure sugar and hold out a bowl of the stuff as proof, and it still wouldn't keep them from mouthing off every chance they get. It was just dumb luck that they had to be there at the same time we were." He paused to spit out the now-extinguished cigarette butt. "If you want to know the truth, I ran into Natsuhiko today while you were out."

"Natsuhiko? Miroku-kun?" Surprise lifted Akabane's voice somewhat. "He came to visit?"

"No, I met him downtown," Ban said, fishing out another cigarette, finding that he was out, and muttered a curse. "Look, you'd be wound up too if you bumped into him. I don't like wondering if I'm in the clear or if I'm about to have a horde of protectors playing soccer with my skull."

"Did he threaten you?" Akabane's tone was deceptively mild.

"No." They reached the building's entrance; Ban yanked open the door and stalked inside, not waiting for his lover.

Akabane scooted inside just before the door could trap the tails of his coat and continued up the stairs after Ban. "Midou-kun..."

"Christ. Will you _relax,_ Jackal? I _told_ you. It's nothing. Nobody's going to fight anybody," Ban stressed, wishing he'd just kept his mouth shut. "Natsuhiko mentioned something about some people Ginji and I knew that gave us trouble before. He thinks they might be a problem on another job, that's all. You know how protective Yukihiko and Ginji are of each other."

Akabane was behind him on the stairs, so Ban couldn't see his frown, though he definitely heard it in the other man's voice. "Oh."

They came to the floor their apartment was on and headed down the hall.

"Trust me, I have zero intention of taking any job associated with hard times," Ban said, lowering his voice to avoid attracting attention. He dug his keys out of his pocket as they approached their door. "I don't like being broadsided by bad news."

"Mmmmm." This hum was more thoughtful. "I can't imagine anyone who does, Midou-kun. These...rivals, they must be very dangerous if even Natsuhiko-kun seems concerned about them."

Ban made a wordless grunt in reply and unlocked the door. He entered their apartment, deciding that he needed to renew his beer buzz to take some of the rekindled agitation off.

He was halfway into the kitchen when Akabane suddenly said, "Is it Brain Trust?"

Ban froze, the refrigerator door already opened and his hand extended to grab a bottle of Germany's finest. He turned around to bark at Akabane.

His lover had divested himself of his boots and hat, and was now looking at him with an almost ferocious intent, all traces of his constant smile nowhere to be glimpsed. Purple eyes glittered with diamond strength as Akabane softly repeated, "Is it?"

Ban stared back at him. That feeling of the pendulum abruptly swinging back into dangerous territory knocked his heart hard against his chest.

"No," he said at last. "No, it's not them." _Not yet, anyway,_ he thought.

Akabane's intense gaze pierced him as viciously as any of his scalpels could, and the terse silence held a few more seconds. Then the moment evaporated, dissolving into the ease of a transporter's calm smile. "Good."

He began walking towards the bedroom. Ban watched him leave, momentarily forgetting about his quest for alcoholic refreshment. Akabane had always displayed a peculiar antagonistic indifference to the Trust in general when the topic was brought up, and it never failed to intrigue Ban. He knew he wasn't the only one who had noticed Jackal's reactions. Ginji had said before, he'd felt things coming from Akabane that weren't normally there, and both Himiko and the thread-spool had speculated on separate occasions when, after having met with Akabane during Mugenjou-based missions, that he'd talked of certain things related to it and the Trust as if he'd been speaking from personal experience.

Then there was the spook, that weird little girl who hung around Mugenjou's upper tiers and popped up outside of the fortress from time to time, evidently getting her kicks from watching the whole lot of them. By Akabane's own admission, they'd spoken briefly several times and she'd once offered him God-only-knew-what hidden inside a candy. Ban had been furious when he'd learned from Ginji that she'd given him one too, and the monkey-trainer as well. The effects may have been positive overall, but Ban loathed the thought of himself or the select few he gave a damn about being manipulated on any level by outside forces.

Some of the others had said that it seemed like Hakase – the specialist – knew Akabane on a level that wasn't solely connected to his profession as a transporter, and Ban was inclined to agree. He had yet to figure out what part of the puzzle she fit into, but he knew it couldn't be anything good. Things operating in conjecture with Mugenjou, as a general rule, seldom were – it was the true nature of the beast.

Considering his own postulations on his lover's personal history, all of this had always made Ban curious, but not so much as to risk a knife in the back by possibly angering Jackal if he dared broach the touchy subject. It was something he himself could appreciate, after all. Ban no more enjoyed discussing parts of his own past than he did having busybodies pry into it without his permission.

A small part of him muttered that maybe, just maybe, he was being a little two-faced about his denial to Akabane, given that it was Ban who had first established the rule of honesty in their shortly-to-be-consummated relationship. He silenced that voice with the slam of the refrigerator door – sans beer – and went to find the comfort of a hot shower instead.

Akabane was hanging up his coat in the closet. He greeted Ban with a slightly warmer smile than earlier. "You had me wondering, Midou-kun."

Ban pulled off his white shirt, which he tossed onto the bed. "Oh?"

"For a moment there I thought I was going to have to have another chat with Kagami-kun."

Akabane had turned around to remove his gloves and undo his tie, so he missed the sight of his lover's eyes widening. "What?" Ban demanded, not quite raising his voice.

"Didn't I tell you?"

"Obviously not."

Akabane finished unknotting his tie and slipping it free from his now-unbuttoned shirt collar. He laid the tie on the dresser and turned around to look up at Ban with the same relaxed smile. "I ran into him some time ago while on an assignment. I found it necessary to remind him of the wisdom of not interfering with my enjoyment."

His contentment shifted into a subtle but charming malice as he began to stroll towards Ban, casually flexing a scalpel-studded hand. "He got the point, I assure you."

Ban hissed. "You killed the bar host?"

Some of the tartness melted away from Akabane's smile. "No. Though I would have liked to, I admit. He has potential as a worthy opponent."

He came closer to Ban and reached for him with a hand that no longer held knives. Long pale fingers threaded through Ban's hair and slender arms wound around his shoulders and waist as Akabane kissed him.

"But I remembered our promise."

It never failed to startle Ban, this seamless blend of intrigue and gentle manners that could so easily switch to cold-blooded purpose and back again in less time than it took to blink. Akabane's flesh was warm and inviting, his mouth tender against Ban's as they kissed, so close together that the soft waves of the transporter's hair tickled Ban's face, and the swipe of fluttering eyelashes dusted his cheek. Inside this attractive package beat a heart of solid stone...or so most believed. If one knew what to look for, where to find it and apply the right pressure at the precise points, even a jackal was capable of experiencing and returning human affections.

Maybe it was possible for old dogs to learn new tricks...it was sustaining this momentum that was the obstacle...

"Our promise..." Ban murmured aloud as the kiss separated and he found himself looking into Akabane's eyes. When the light hit them just right, the pupils seemed to shimmer with an iridescence that made it appear as if quicksilver had merged with the purple and brought to Ban's mind a gorgeous image of a close-up photograph of a wolf he'd once seen in a textbook as a boy. The animal had stared back at the camera with equal parts fascination, curiosity, and a sense of kinship that living beings attuned to all senses within the natural world were instinctively aware of. There had been no ferocity, no hostility, no fear or shame or lust for bloodshed in that gaze – just that feeling of shared companionship, an awareness of a life force that was both their own and still greater than. Sometimes Ban wondered if this was what it was like for the monkey king, with his vast legions of creatures that traveled by means of other than two legs.

Sometimes Ban secretly admitted that he envied Shido that soul-bond.

He had Ginji, of course, and in a way that was far worse vengeance than any slander his rival could ever hope to visit on him. But Ginji was something else, something pure that Ban couldn't bear to taint, because he had the lingering fear that doing so would snuff out the one light that had kept him from completely plummeting over the dark cliffs of his worst days.

Akabane had danced along those edges many times; he knew what it was to look over the empty beyond and see the fathomless hunger reflected back in one's own self, to drink deeply from the poisoned wells of loathing and doubt and forever come up thirsting for something that was both more of the same and somehow different than before. It would have been classic miserable company – but for the sheer fact that in each other, their struggles were somehow made less painful, less lonely, and their strengths tempered and transcended those weaknesses into an alloy made stronger only by the heart.

It _terrified_ Ban to think of what vulnerability a man as precise, as calculating, as _lethal_ as the one he held in his arms might carve from the meat of his soul.

Not because he might intend to, either out of deliberation or rage. Ban was capable of shutting that gateway down before it could be forced all the way open.

The threat lay in the possibility of the _other_ alternative recognizing the danger this new avenue presented, and an irresistible call for blood sacrifice would be summoned. Akabane would be helpless to deny such cravings. Ban would have no choice but to unleash his own last, desperate gamble, and that way lay madness of an unfamiliar stripe.

Akabane nibbled slow kisses along Ban's lower lip. "Yes. Our promise," he purred, giving his lover an inquisitive smile. "You do still want me to abide by the terms of our original agreement...don't you, Midou-kun?"

It was _twice_ as frightening for Ban to imagine the devastation should he be careless enough to slaughter the precious discovery he'd worked so hard to draw back from the abyss. Once had been more than enough for him to have done the ripping-out-of-hearts. If he screwed this up, he may as well tear out his own and toss it into the grinder too.

"Yes. Yes! _Definitely!_" Ban sputtered, twisting back out of his lover's reach and making a beeline for the shower.

Akabane smiled at his retreating form before following him inside the bathroom. "As you wish, then."

Ban managed to pull off his tank top and flick the catch on his belt before he was accosted once more. "Now what?"

"Good behavior is usually rewarded, isn't it?" Akabane wrapped himself around Ban's body like one of his form-fitting gloves.

Ban groaned, not from arousal. "Do we have to fight now, or can it wait till later?"

The other man's chuckle was endearing in its wickedness. "I had something else in mind. However, if you wish to play, I'm certainly willing to accommodate you."

Ordinarily Ban would've latched on to this kind of opportunity with a stranglehold. But try as he might, he couldn't muster enough enthusiasm right now for their usual sequence. Damned Brain Trust. Damned Natsuhiko. His libido was getting trampled by his concentration.

As carefully as he could – mindful of Jackal's eagerness to play regardless of the 'battlefield' – Ban grasped Akabane and pushed him away. "Ah – it's not a good time. I want a shower," he explained.

Akabane didn't take the hint. Still smiling, he reached for Ban's zipper. "I don't mind. We can still enjoy ourselves in the water."

Ban smacked his hand away from his pants. "Not this time. Downstairs isn't ready, in case you haven't noticed."

"I can fix that." Hardly had his lover uttered the lascivious declaration than Ban saw him drop to his knees in front of him. Nimble fingers sought and attacked the zipper once more; Akabane managed to get one hand inside Ban's pants and almost succeeded in withdrawing what he wanted before Ban was able to struggle loose of his grasp.

"Akabane, quit it. I'm not in the mood."

"It's not polite to tease, Midou-kun." They were at it again, Ban trying to shove him away, Akabane trying to entice his lover into joining him. He got both hands inside Ban's pants this time and leaned forward with his mouth open.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sure it's not a physical problem, Midou-kun. But just in case this doesn't work, there are always medications that can be prescribed..."

"I don't need pills, damn you! Let go!"

"Poor Midou-kun. You're so tense. Let me take care of that."

Part of him warned that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to interrupt someone whose teeth were millimeters away from a vital portion of his anatomy, but it was overruled by the half of him that was irritated and upset over the day's events, and Akabane's refusal to accept dismissal fueled Ban's anxiety. He clutched a fistful of dark hair at the back of his lover's head and yanked backwards.

"Ah! Ah! Midou-kun!"

"Goddammit, I said knock it off!"

Akabane ceased his efforts and looked up at Ban, pressing a hand to his abused scalp. Confusion, and perhaps a little bit of hurt at being so unceremoniously rejected, deepened his eyes to a subdued violet. "That wasn't necessary!"

"Got your attention, didn't it?" Ban snapped as he finished tucking himself back into his pants. "Now beat it so I can have some peace for a bit."

Wrong thing to say. That purple gaze narrowed into frost, as Akabane's bewilderment shifted to annoyance. Glaring at Ban, he got up and crossed his arms against his chest. "What's wrong, Midou-kun? This isn't just about your meeting with Natsuhiko-kun, is it?"

"It's none of your business."

"I beg to differ. You've been most disagreeable lately and I'm not sure I care for much more of it," Akabane finished with a quiet growl. "I was only trying to help. You didn't have to be so unpleasant."

Ban slammed a bar of soap on the counter. "Well, you could've taken the first couple of hints I put out instead of horning in on your own satisfaction like you always do."

Akabane made a small noise of anger. "Excuse me? I was trying to make things more enjoyable for both of us."

Ban started to snap back at him, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed a pair of scalpels had extended and were tapping against Akabane's thigh. A surefire sign that his lover was vexed was when he fidgeted with his knives; an action disquieting enough had they merely shone their usual ethereal blue-white energy instead of currently sporting a bleeding red. Provoking an outright battle between them wouldn't do either man any good.

Swallowing his pride and his temper, Ban silently counted to ten and took a deep breath to mentally prepare his damage control before he answered. "Look, Akabane. I know you didn't mean anything by it. I know you just wanted us to have fun. I'm just keyed up right now, from talking with Natsuhiko and having a lot of other things on my mind lately. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

Somewhat mollified by his lover's semi-apology, Akabane relaxed, and the scalpels' crimson tint faded into a neutral hue. He tilted his head at Ban, still frowning. "You can tell me if something's wrong, Midou-kun. I wouldn't have forced the issue if I'd known you were this upset."

Ban sighed, bracing his hands on his hips and looking at the floor for a moment, then back up to Akabane. "I'll tell you when the time is right," he hedged at last. "Right now I need some space. It's more my problem than it is yours anyway," he added, which was half-truth, at least in regards to his own conflicted feelings. "Okay?"

Akabane didn't look happy about it, but neither did he appear as though he were contemplating manslaughter anymore. He studied Ban for several minutes, apparently giving his words some consideration. Finally he gave a slow nod. "All right."

Feeling abruptly guilty over his rough treatment (and in turn pissed about that), Ban cautiously approached the other man in case he was still harboring aggressive thoughts. "Hurt much?" he asked, indicating the spot where he'd pulled Akabane's hair.

"No." Akabane shook his head gently as he spoke, the motion sending tendrils of ebony rustling along his face and the sides of his neck. Ban reached up and carded his fingers through the soft mane, lightly rubbing the sore area at the back of Akabane's head.

"Sorry."

Akabane stepped in closer to Ban, tentatively laying a palm – scalpel-less, thankfully - on his shoulder as if to inquire whether the advance was welcome. When Ban made no move to disallow it, he slipped both arms around his lover and leaned in to touch their noses together. "All is forgiven, Midou-kun," he murmured.

Relieved that extra misery had been averted, Ban exhaled another long, slow breath. He suddenly felt very tired, even though the day's stress had been a picnic compared to some of what he went through on a typical retrieval job. But that was physical, his inner critic pointed out. Mental – emotional – stress was a minefield twice as aggravating to navigate and he'd had no short supply of that. He lifted his hands to the other man's shoulders to break their casual embrace, and was surprised when instead he shifted the pressure of his fingers so that he was bringing Akabane in closer.

They stood like that, together, for a while, indulging in a hug that doubtless meant different things to each man. For Akabane, it was reassurance that he wasn't wholly being turned away, and that his companion was, in his own roundabout way, apologizing for his brusqueness. For Ban, it felt like an odd security, a constant source of strength willingly lending itself to his support. He and Akabane shared some of the same characteristics they both admired. Foundations like that were inherently valuable, and rarer still to find –

A series of demented electronic warbles coming from atop the dresser interrupted their genuflections. Akabane's cell phone launched into an obscenely cheerful melody, signaling an incoming call from, most likely, a potential client.

They looked at it, then each other, the spell broken by awkwardness. After the fifth ring Akabane offered Ban a chagrined tidbit of a smile. "I suppose I should answer that."

"Yeah."

Fingers caressed the side of Ban's face. "Perhaps we could talk later?"

"Maybe, yeah."

Akabane smiled, a real one this time. "I would like that, Midou-kun."

Ban let go, and watched his lover pad back into the bedroom to deal with the bastardly device. Recognizing an opportunity when it presented itself, he closed the bathroom door and flicked on the shower's faucet.

_What_ had just happened?

Past arguments hadn't been nearly as intimate. Knife-play aside, Akabane tended towards icy silence when angered. With Ban it was profanity-laden rants. He saved the brunt of his fury for easily replaceable objects. But this time he sensed that his lover had actually been hurt, and strangely, he felt a pervasive guilt over having inflicted those invisible wounds.

Ban thought back to his earlier questions, the dreams he'd had. The revelation was particularly disturbing, in light of these musings, for guilt implied a real concern not unlike that of –

"Crazy," he muttered to himself as he peeled off his remaining clothes and got in the shower. "I _can't_ be falling for that trap."

He decided it was better to ignore the suggestion threading its sinuous way through his head that it might already be too late.

--

TBC


	26. The Language Of Love part 2

Title: The Language of Love, ch. 3  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #4 – "our distance and that person"

Rating: R (violence, language, disturbing war imagery)

Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for both Ban's and Akabane's pasts.

Notes: A companion piece to Crossroads, so it will make more sense if you've read that one.

- Don't worry, Kagami fans. I may love to torment him, but he doesn't die in this. Really.

- Due to recent health issues and fic length, I'm posting this one in chapters.

- This and other fics in this series can be found here and on my InsaneJournal.  
Disclaimer: I'd love to own GB's wonderful characters, but guess what? I don't. :cries:  
Summary: Call to me, and I will hear you even in the distance…

--

_III: Under (Blood) Pressure _

The discord showed no sign of abating when the very first thing next morning they were confronted with a fresh batch of jobs. Ban had wanted to do a little information-digging, to see if what Natsuhiko had mentioned was true, but his mention of low funds hadn't been an entirely false claim. Ginji's rent was due in less than a week, between them they only had about a pocketful of change, and Ban had incurred a flurry of recent parking fines. They needed the money.

The last retrieval, at least, was simple even if it didn't pay peanuts, and it took them less than a few hours to find the item. The hard part was returning it. They had to walk straight through the homeless district…where their client lived. Someday, Ban thought, he was really going to have to sit Ginji down for a talk about accepting every hard-luck case that came their way.

Akabane happened to be along, as he'd just gotten off a job himself and met them downtown. The trio cased the slums until the Get Backers had located the client and delivered the item – a lost keepsake belonging to one of the client's long-deceased parents. It was while Ginji was conducting his usual social bonding with the grateful client that Ban experienced another wave of anxiety regarding his relationship with Akabane.

A young mother was wandering the alleys nearby, picking through some of the overstuffed garbage bins for salvageable food. With her was a little boy, perhaps no older than four or five years, and he remained well behind her, seated on the ground. Occasionally, as the distance between them widened, the child would carefully crawl to his knees and hobble his way closer to the woman. The pair took little notice of the retrieval agents as they approached, though the woman was careful to keep beyond immediate reach.

The boy wasn't well, Ban immediately noticed. His skin was flushed a rosy color that had nothing to do with the vigor of health and everything to do with the mortality of deep-seated sickness. Briefly Ban wondered if it had come from eating tainted food, repressing a quiet shudder as he thought of his own occasional brushes with food poisoning from his tenure on the streets before being taken in by the Kudous. He'd contracted a few things serious enough to land him in a hospital before, but he'd been damn lucky that it never went beyond an intolerable level of dehydration.

Akabane noticed the child too, Ban realized, and he chewed on the end of his cigarette as he watched his lover watching the pair make their way from trashcan to trashcan, the mother painstakingly extracting and sorting morsels of food that weren't quite molded over or swarming with flies. Jackal wore his usual calm expression, but his eyes had glazed over into moody reflection, and one hand had retreated into a pocket of his coat where his fingers could toy with the scalpels without attracting attention.

"Jackal?" Ban spoke quietly, not wanting to gain anyone's notice either. Particularly Ginji's, since he knew full well that his partner would insist on blowing their hard-earned cash on a banquet to feed the malnourished family.

Not that Ban didn't feel any measure of sympathy for them himself. He knew only too well what it was like to worry where one's next meal or sleeping space was coming from, and he thought that the kind of backhanded treatment the homeless usually received was detestable. But the hard truth was that one had to look out for one's self first before being capable of taking on responsibility for others. It was a maxim he'd tried in vain to instill in Ginji, who would have happily given away of himself right down to the very marrow if Ban wasn't around to reign him in.

Akabane evidently hadn't heard him, for he'd begun to drift in his wraithlike fashion towards the little boy, who had spotted him and was looking up at him with something like what seemed to be resignation, an awareness of his own frailty that no child should have. This seemed to evoke a familiar routine in Jackal, and he picked up his stride, moving towards the child with less apprehension and more assurance. A physician's confidence, Ban realized, suddenly feeling a chill wind down his spine, though he didn't quite understand why.

When he reached the mother and her son Akabane began to speak to them in low, gentle tones. The woman, still nervous that he might be some sort of authority come to take her boy from her, held back at first, but when Akabane took down his imposing hat and laid it aside she seemed more at ease.

Through their conversation Ban gathered that the woman and child had been homeless for quite some time. Recently the little boy had suffered an injury that might have been easily treated, were it not for the fact that his mother had no money and no job, and was thus unable to pay for medical expenses. At that point, Akabane offered to have a look at the source of the boy's misery, and the mother, having apparently decided that he was trustworthy, consented to this.

The boy didn't fuss or struggle while being examined, as most children might. Instead, he lay limp and silent, only once making a small croak of pain when his swollen right leg was probed. Closer inspection revealed an ugly cut on his shin that was poorly bandaged; the wrappings covering the wound were encrusted with bloody yellowish-green pus.

Ban had drawn closer, more to watch Akabane than anything else, and wasn't surprised to see the other man slowly shake his head.

"This is very troublesome, miss," the transporter was saying now to the worried mother. "I can lance it so that some of the infection drains and lessens the internal pressure, but I'm afraid there is nothing to be done outside of a proper hospital." Purple eyes lifted slowly and Ban was startled to see a savage pain twist across that pale face for the barest of seconds, though the professional solemnity of his voice never wavered. "I would, however, recommend a basic remedy that may alleviate some of your son's suffering."

The woman shook her head, tears escaping the corners of her eyes. "I just didn't want him to be alone," she said softly, her gaze dropping.

"Very well," Akabane said. He reached into the breast pocket of his coat, withdrawing a small notepad and pen, which he used to write down his instructions before tearing away the piece of paper and handing it to her as he explained what to do. She thanked him profusely, and Akabane knelt again to collect his hat and speak to the boy.

"Be strong for your mother, little one."

The boy shivered and sucked down a struggling gulp of air, but nodded carefully. With one last, long look at both Akabane and Ban, he curled back into his mother's embrace, and she carried him and their meager pickings away.

Ban realized his cigarette had burnt to its end, so he flicked away the stubbed butt and started to light another one. He suddenly felt like searing away the emotions that were creeping up on him in a cloud of nicotine. "That was a good thing you did," he said to Akabane at length.

The other man didn't answer right away, and Ban thought that he hadn't heard him – until Akabane turned around and Ban saw the bitterness that had seeped into his face. It made him look shockingly more human than Ban could ever remember seeing in recent months.

Akabane's voice was hollow in its defeat. "What good? The child will be dead by morning. The infection has spread too deeply for it to be stopped in time."

Ban scowled. "If that's the case, then why – " He was about to say something that had sprung to the tip of his tongue, then checked himself in time and quickly coughed to cover up his near-slip. "Never mind," he finally managed to mumble.

Akabane had heard the implication, however. He faltered for a second, wincing as if Ban had physically struck him, and in the softly indrawn breath he heard Ban glimpsed the rawness in the other man and understood with a sickening weight in his gut the mistake he'd just made.

He should have remembered, goddammit.

Himiko had told him, not long after the first major debacle that had been the IL mission. Doctor Jackal had no qualms about taking on opponents his own size and beyond, felt no remorse in pushing the conclusion of a battle well past its acceptable limits. Not once, however, had he ever lifted a hand – a weapon – against one incapable of defending oneself…not even the Wire Doll-afflicted child armies sent to stop the retrievers.

Human monsters were a perplexing bunch. Some might commit the most atrocious of deeds, and yet retain a single shred of humanity…the light of which could be glimpsed by their measured ability to extend mercy in the most unlikely of venues.

Ban knew he had no excuses for his past misdeeds. A few of them he couldn't honestly say that he even regretted. Whatever Akabane's sins were, the other man still functioned within a sphere of protocol that he obeyed as faithfully as a worshipper observes the tenets of a religion. Granted, to one such as Ginji, this wasn't much of a step above the worst of the worst. But it had to count for something. Even Ginji might be able to see that, having lived in a world of unending gray before escaping to a black-and-white environment of his own mind that was comforting in its restrictions.

Surely, he and Akabane had been good for each other, in some way. They had to be, if they'd managed to remain together this long without a rising body count…

Akabane's voice, always modulated to a velvety softness, barely rose above a trembling whisper that floated above that subtle frosting over of his expression, the ruthless elimination of all emotion and humanity – of vulnerability.

"I suppose it shouldn't be so surprising. The Jackal may have been tamed, but is still a savage hunter at heart. One who finds pleasure and enjoyment in the thrill of the battle and its bloody sacrifice would hardly bother over what one more candle is to be snuffed out, surely…"

Ban wanted to gag on the smoke stinging his nostrils. "Akabane – "

But Akabane had already turned away from him and was sauntering down the path.

"Shit," Ban growled. This was going to cost him.

He contemplated leaving Ginji to play social hour with their client, then reckoned it wasn't worth the extra hassle of tracking him down when he finally decided to come home and got lost in the process. With another string of muttered curses, Ban returned to the grotto to drag Ginji away and hopefully resume the salvaging of his botched talk with Akabane.

--

He purposely wound a longer route than usual in order to plot strategy, weaving the car in and out of traffic occasionally when slower drivers got the better of his seething frustration. A couple of times Ginji would wince and clench the sides or the seat whenever they cut a pass closer than he liked, but his partner did this all the time so Ban paid it scant notice. His driving skill was better than most people's, he believed.

For his part, Akabane said nothing, but once in a while Ban would catch him out of the corner of his eye looking as though he were on the verge of commenting on the erratic driving techniques. As he seemed to be more involved with his inner struggles, however, Akabane refrained from voicing any disapproval, for which Ban was thankful as dissent would have triggered an automatic biting remark from him.

When they finally pulled up outside the apartment building Ban turned to his partner. "Ginji."

"Yeah, Ban-chan?"

"Go take a walk." Ginji looked ready to protest, until he caught the meaningful gleam in Ban's eye: _it'll be okay._ Reluctantly, he glanced from his partner to his partner's lover, and silently concluded that these two were going to have to work out their own issues by themselves.

"I'll be at the Honky Tonk, then, if you guys need anything," Ginji said, though his statement was directed at Ban as he got out of the Ladybug. He wasn't stupid – or bold – enough to risk Akabane's displeasure by interrupting the transporter's silence with attempts at direct conversation. With a last worried look at the both of them, he backed away and trotted down the sidewalk.

That left Ban with a handful of brooding transporter. He turned to say something to Akabane and found that the other had already exited the car. Snarling a quiet curse, Ban bolted from the seat and slammed the door.

Akabane was probably inside the apartment by now, knowing his speed. Ban chased after him, barely clipping a passerby tenant who was coming out of the front door.

Upstairs, he found his lover at the top of the stairs, heading down the hall. Ban reigned in his impulse to charge ahead and proceeded at a more measured pace until he'd joined him by their door. Akabane didn't look at or acknowledge his presence as he unlocked it and entered.

Ban followed, noting that the other man, who was always such a stickler for correct behavior, didn't even remove his boots this time before proceeding further inside. He scowled. For Akabane to abandon as rigid a habit as that meant the transporter was very unhappy indeed. He wondered if Ginji had picked up on this, and figured he had. Though he was skilled in reading behavioral cues, Ban sometimes envied Ginji's strange ability – connected with his electromagnetic powers - to tune into others' emotions. That trick would have come in handy now in dealing with his boyfriend's temperamental nature.

Still, there was no help for it, he knew, so he brought all of his patience and experience to bear as he prepared to confront Akabane about the latter's reaction to today's events. As the pair walked towards the bedroom Ban said in a low voice, "How are you doing?"

The immediate silence following his question made Ban think that either Akabane hadn't heard him or was choosing to ignore him. Then, the soft clearing of a throat as the other man removed his hat and placed it on the dresser.

"Fine."

Ban ground his teeth silently at the terse reply, the same kind he'd gotten the last few times he'd asked. He laid a hand on Akabane's shoulder to stop him as he passed by on his way to the spare room they'd designated as their 'office,' but it was neatly evaded with a swift roll of fluid movement.

"Jackal."

Now Akabane _was_ ignoring him, sweeping into the room in a swirl of black without so much as a backwards glance. Though his pace was quick, it wasn't frantic, and his movements as he pulled up a chair and flipped open the case of his laptop computer at the desk were precise, short, sharp. Efficient, Ban knew, watching Akabane sort through his email. The highlight of a man trained to perform delicate and intensive work, obsessed with excellence if not perfection.

"Jackal. I think we need to talk."

"About what?" Akabane's gaze never left the screen.

"You _know_ what." It was getting harder for Ban to keep the irritation out of his tone, despite the instinct cautioning him to tread carefully. But he wanted worthwhile answers, and Akabane's closemouthed refusal was maddening. "It reminded you of your friend Semimaru's kid, didn't it?"

The laptop was closed with a distinct snap. "I don't believe that's any of your business," the other man said in measured velvet as he got up and departed the room.

Ban wasn't going to let him off the hook. "It _is_ my business when you get that creepy look in your eye like you are now. I get twitchy thinking about what you may or may not be contemplating in that pretty head of yours."

"Unless you plan on instigating something, you can relax. I have no intention of engaging you at the moment," Akabane said as he made a beeline for the kitchen. "So why don't we put past things behind us and forget all this unpleasantness."

"Hey, I'm not the one running like a scared rabbit from my own emotions."

That got a response. Purple eyes flashed as Akabane whirled, one gloved fist twitching as if preparing to clutch at blades. "I'm not even going to dignify that nonsense with an answer."

Ban held up a hand. "What happened to talking? I thought you wanted to pick up our talk where we left off."

"I told you, I'm not interested in rehashing ancient history. I don't harass you to divulge every excruciating detail of your sordid record, so I'd appreciate it if you'd kindly grant me the same courtesy," Akabane snapped.

Blue eyes narrowed. "Would you even care?" Ban retorted. "That's what lovers do, you know, is share themselves with each other. They don't clam up and pretend they're not hurting by remembering what it's like to be human."

"Speak for yourself," Akabane replied evenly, taking several steps closer to the other. "If you want to get into accusations, why don't we start with your problems? You won't even tell me why you've been out of sorts this week, and when I try to ask what I can do or offer to help, I get condescension and roughhousing in response."

"Because you won't _talk_ to me, damn it!"

"I have!"

"Like hell! Getting information out of you is like pulling teeth from concrete."

"I might say the same about you," Akabane told him. "You've been perfectly beastly."

"Since when?" Ban growled.

"Since today, and yesterday, and the day before that," Akabane said. "And the previous day as well." He started ticking off points on his fingers. "You've been rude to Wan-san when he asked you to pay your bill. You've yelled at Ginji-kun for asking if he could have ice cream. You've treated Hevn-san poorly when she came to offer you a job – a most lucrative one, I might add, seeing as how you were broke again. And you've been outright unpleasant for me to have to live with." He paused and leveled an imperious glare at Ban. "To put it in terms Shido-san might use, you're being…" He sighed, and forced the words out. "An ass."

Infuriated, Ban dropped all pretense of civility. "The ape-kisser has nothing to do with this and you know it. One, I told Paul I'd have money for him by the end of the week. Two, when we're pinching pennies we don't need to be blowing more money on stupid shit like ice cream cones. Three, Hevn _knows_ we fucking hate jobs that have that Undead monster working protector and I've told her before never to call us with one of those, money be damned. Four, as for you – " he snorted, tugging his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose – "you had every bit coming and you know it, so get off your cross and give the wood to someone who could use it for a bridge. You're not fooling anybody with this _professional_ act you've got down, least of all me."

The temperature in the surrounding area could have nosedived with the frigid look Akabane was giving him. "Is there anything else you care to add?" he asked with deadly, clipped softness.

"Not unless you're ready to get honest with me when I want to talk to you about something important," Ban said. "Till then, you can fuck off and take that oversized umbrella you wear on your head with you."

He turned to stomp back to the bedroom and halted when he heard the other man speak. Akabane's voice sounded strained. "I don't understand why you're so upset with me. Truly, I don't. I've done my best to be an enjoyable companion for you. I have a vested interest in this relationship too. I've respected your privacy wishes and your idiosyncrasies and catered to most if not all of your outrageous demands. And I haven't killed anyone recently. I've tried to conform to our agreement." A fresh flicker of genuine pain surfaced in those elegant features. "Sometimes I don't think you realize how difficult it is for me…" The purple eyes seemed to glaze over then with remembrance of secrets kept shuttered.

"What are you saying, Jackal?" Ban stared at him, feeling a rising wave of disgust and rage. "Do you _want_ to kill again, is that it? Go back to shedding blood just because you can, because you're out to prove that you're more powerful than any poor bastard you meet out there on the streets?"

Neither of them said anything for several long minutes. Akabane's throat worked vigorously as he sought to voice a reply. "Honestly?" he managed a whisper. "Sometimes…I do."

Ban thought he had a succinct answer for that, found he couldn't bring himself to say what he was thinking, and eventually gave up. He waved a hand at Akabane and snarled wordlessly as he spun and walked away.

A frustrated mewl at his back drew his attention. "That's what I mean!" Akabane cried softly as he followed Ban. "You ask for honesty and I give it to you of my own will, and what do you do with it? Use it to attack me! You never take me seriously when I ask for _your_ understanding in return!"

"What Doctor Jackal wants is for me to join in," Ban said flatly. "And that I'll never do. I asked long ago what you really wanted, and you told me that the one thing Kuroudo Akabane wants most in this world is to feel alive again. But recovery is a two-way street. I can't help you find what you're seeking unless you work with me, and that means surrendering the very weaknesses you're so desperate to protect."

Akabane had begun to tremble visibly. Amethyst fury sparked in his eyes. "You _dare,_" he hissed, his voice gone nearly inaudible from sheer rage. "You _dare_ accuse me of breaching our covenant when I have bent over _backwards_ to prove to you my honor."

Ban's right arm tensed, and he carefully shifted his feet to brace himself in case of an impending attack. The quieter Akabane got, the more dangerous he became. "I'm not accusing you of anything except your stubborn refusal to accept your own humanity. Where the hell is it written that Doctor Jackal isn't allowed to feel and express human emotions? To remember the pain of having lost somebody the old doctor Kuroudo once cared very deeply for – "

Akabane bared his teeth in a silent snarl as he raised a fist instantly bristling with hot red knives. "Drop it, Midou!"

Neither of them missed the fact that this was the first time Akabane had ever used Ban's surname without his typical affectionate appellative. It bore ample testimony to Jackal's wrath.

"This is my only warning to you. Speak of _that _again and I _will_ slay you where you stand, covenant or no," the other man spoke through clenched teeth. "Now get out."

"What?"

Akabane flung a scalpel at him. Ban dodged, and the blade embedded itself in the floor where a second ago his feet had been planted.

"There are one hundred and seven more of those where that came from," Akabane spat as he repeated his ultimatum. "Get out."

Ban felt as though he'd suddenly been tossed adrift in a churning sea of his own emotions. He didn't know whether to yell, attack, laugh wildly, or stare dumbstruck. "You're not throwing me out?!"

Akabane's response was another thrown scalpel. "You heard me! Get out. Leave. What part of _that_ don't you understand?" He pitched two more scalpels, one of which bit off one of the tails of Ban's shirt as he raced to avoid it.

"You psychotic son of a bitch! You can't do this to me! I live here too, dammit!"

Angered further, Akabane charged Ban with both hands full of knives. They danced and darted throughout the apartment, weaving in and out of the maze of furnishings, much to their scattering pets' dismay. "Oh yes I can! My name is the one that was signed to that lease agreement when we moved in." Akabane swung at his lover and succeeded in trimming one of the topmost spikes of Ban's hair. "You may be a first-class retrieval agent, but your own humanity is far from impressive, isn't it? Obviously your mother never taught you any better!"

Ban stumbled at that mention, and would have taken the next scalpel in his gut if he hadn't the presence of mind to roll to one side before it struck the carpet with a muffled thud. Thoroughly pissed off now, by both the low blow and the knife-throwing, he scrambled to his feet and sought an opening to go on offensive. He might have found this whole scenario darkly amusing, in that this was one of the rare times Akabane would ever have openly displayed such a human emotion as anger, let alone permit it to get the best of his rigidly guarded exterior – his eyes blazed with passion that for once had nothing to do with the exhilaration of battle – except that Ban had no desire to wind up on the business end of any of his lover's weapons, and Akabane was slashing to kill.

With well-honed expertise, Ban waited until Akabane was at that penultimate moment of his next strike, and then he launched forward with hands extended.

"_Snakebite!" _

A flash of silver, of eye-blink, and the two were rolling in one smooth motion head over heels as Ban seized Akabane and flipped him over onto the floor. The transporter landed roughly on his stomach, one arm pinned underneath him, the other captured behind his back by his lover.

Ban wasn't done yet. He clamped his free hand onto the back of Akabane's neck and squeezed.

"All right. We'll do this the hard way."

Akabane growled in helpless frustration. He couldn't even move his lower body – Ban was pressed tightly against him, their legs entwined. "Snared by the serpent. Again."

"Powerful enough to snap a man's neck," Ban agreed. "Or corral an uncooperative jackal." He didn't slacken his grip even when Akabane, knowing he was defeated in this round, went limp in submission to this superior strength. Ban's chest rose and fell in slow, deep breaths; neither of them had expended much energy during their chase, but his anger was slow in burning itself out.

Likewise, Akabane retained little forgiveness for this indignity. "I will rescind my earlier admonition if you cease this hostility," the other man muttered, his voice muffled from having his face mashed against the floor. "Now let me up."

"No." His hold on Akabane's neck had to have been painful, even by his standards, but Ban wasn't giving an inch. He didn't trust Jackal not to gore him when he least expected it. "I can keep this up just as long as you can. Until you start talking, neither of us is going anywhere."

It would have been a more effective threat, had that cursed cell phone not chosen this moment to issue its shrill summons from somewhere in the oceans of Akabane's coat.

"I need to answer that," Akabane said.

"Tough. Whoever it is, they can wait."

"No, they can't. Maguruma was supposed to notify me of a job we've been expecting from one of our regulars."

"Maguruma can go drive his truck off a cliff for all I care."

"This is _important!_ Please…"

Ban would never know if it had been the note of desperation in Akabane's tone or the reverting back to politeness – or his own inner concession to the feelings he dared not give voice to. Regardless, he eased the pressure on Akabane's body to allow him to crawl to his knees and sit up – but didn't let go of his wrist, or the back of his neck.

Akabane fished one-handed through his coat and extracted the phone, conducting conversation with minimal necessity. "Yes. I see. Fine. The usual arrangements. Thank you."

He snapped the phone shut and replaced it in his pocket, pausing to comb his hair out of his eyes and repair the tattered remnants of his dignity. "I have work to attend to," he said coldly, after a spell of silence had passed.

"When?"

"A half-hour. Maguruma is coming here to pick me up." Akabane pointedly refused to look at Ban, staring ahead with thinned lips nowhere near to a smile. "Do you wish to accompany us so that you may continue to keep me in thrall? If not, I suggest you allow me to prepare for the evening."

Wordlessly Ban released him, after first making sure that he was in a position to spring back out of striking range should the transporter change his mind about inflicting bodily harm.

Akabane got stiffly to his feet, straightening out his rumpled clothing. He started to move towards the bedroom.

Ban spoke. "How long are you going to be gone?"

Akabane stopped but didn't turn around. "Late," he snapped, before resuming his march. "When I return, I don't want to see you again until you can behave like a gentleman."

Ban didn't say anything. It was pointless to argue since they both knew he was anything but, even at the best of times. He would even have gone so far as to claim that his brazenness was one of the things that had attracted Akabane to him in the first place, since he had no patience and no love for the bullshit games used to disguise people's real motives. Manners were only manners when not used to snowball others.

He got up and fired a new cigarette, not caring that he was getting ashes on the back of the couch. Ten minutes later Akabane emerged, tidied and adorned with his hat firmly in place. He didn't look at Ban as he headed for the door.

"I don't care how pissed off you are, you better not go practicing your handwriting," Ban called sharply after him.

Akabane opened the door and paused in the entryway. He turned around and graced Ban with a deliberate smile that was twice as cutting as his knives, and a malicious chuckle that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "That's for me to know, and you to worry about, isn't it?" he sneered, and shut the door smartly in his wake.

Red swamped Ban's vision. "So I suppose a good-night fuck is out of the question?" he yelled at the closed door, before giving in to his urges and slamming a crater with his right fist into the nearby wall.

--

The rest of the evening fared about as well. Ban spent the time trying to navigate through his downtown sources the degree of truth to the warning Natsuhiko Miroku had given him. Knowing his former friend, there was more that he was missing; whatever else he might be Natsuhiko wasn't one to lie about matters concerning the important people in his life. After several fruitless hours of negotiations, however, he was tired, grouchy, and out the last of his cigarettes.

Shelter at the Honky Tonk was out. Even though the joint was still open at this hour, Ban was purposely giving it a wide berth for a while after that mess with the human air-massager. Paul no doubt would have bitched that it was his stubborn sire's pride asserting itself again, but Ban ruthlessly silenced that little voice. Besides, he didn't need another lecture about pride and empty stomachs and overdue tabs.

There was always Ginji, but his partner was probably stuffing his face courtesy of a sympathetic Natsumi. That, or he'd retired to his own domicile ages ago for fear of bumping into a pissed-off Jackal, or perhaps Ban himself. That thought was depressing, even though Ban wouldn't have blamed Ginji for wanting to avoid him when he was on the warpath.

He knew that Ginji knew that Ban would never have deliberately set out to hurt him with words, but the knowledge wasn't comforting. For Ban, fists often spoke better than the verbal and it was a language that Ginji, by virtue of his former habitat, would easily understand to mean that whenever he got punched, kicked, smacked and otherwise trampled by his easily agitated friend, it was because Ban trusted him to interpret the motive behind it correctly, and Ginji in turn trusted Ban never to go beyond the limits of his endurance. Growing up in Germany, Ban had seen firsthand how well words could harm without a single blow ever having been thrown, and it was a curse he was determined not to repeat. He had enough damn problems without piling more on.

Without Ginji as a readily available touchstone, he was left with no other choice but to return to the apartment.

It was as dark as he'd left it when he entered; Ban hadn't been expecting Akabane to be waiting. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he would have done if he'd walked in and come face to face with his sulking lover. His only welcoming committee consisted of Medusa, who flicked her tail in his face and hissed at him; when he attempted to scratch her cheek she swiped a paw at him and ran off. Miss Bastet, in taking after her preferred companion, was nowhere to be found.

He searched the place for any possible hidden nicotine stashes – he'd developed the useful habit of secreting an extra pack or two of cigs in various areas, during the retrievers' flush periods, for those times when funds were low and he needed a fast fix. Finding none, he returned to the couch with a hefty tome on forms of magic, but found it difficult to concentrate on the text as his mind kept wandering back to Akabane.

When the transporter did eventually make his way back home he was decidedly less polished than he'd been when he left. His coat was stained and torn, as were several areas of his shirt and trousers, and the bright red he sluiced off his gloves as he rinsed his hands in the sink was clearly _not_ ketchup or food dye. As he passed by Ban Akabane threw him a defiant glare on his way to the bedroom, silently daring him to comment on the obvious signs of a fight, but if his intention was to provoke a fresh round of fisticuffs he was to be sorely disappointed. Ban's anger flared anew, but he knew when to pick his battles, and he kept his mouth firmly clamped shut and pretended he hadn't seen.

This pattern soon established itself for the rest of the week. Akabane and Ban would go about their daily routines, albeit silently, speaking only to each other when conversation was necessary, avoiding each other as often as possible, and come home to share a chilled mattress – not only was sex out of the picture, but giving up his share of the bed was _not_ a negotiable issue for either man.

Not coincidentally, Doctor Jackal received an excess of assignments that kept him mostly absent on long trips. Days, he tended to favor long walks, while nights had him running courier work. Ban had it less easy, though it wasn't for lack of effort. He pushed Ginji to make and hang posters in every conceivable public gathering spot in the downtown area, and some jobs did trickle in shortly thereafter.

Briefly Ban would consider, on nights when he was feeling horny and frustrated or bored, or some combination of all three, grabbing Akabane and wrestling him to the bed. They'd had angry sex before, mostly during the early phase of their relationship when Jackal had broken Ban's rules and flaunted it enough to piss Ban off to the point of starting a fight. But he always quickly dismissed the idea despite the arousing prospects it presented, not caring for the bloody aftermath that he'd inevitably have to clean up when the storm had dispersed and desires were satiated. Ban didn't always end up the victor.

With this silent freeze showing no signs of thawing any time soon, it should hardly have come as a surprise to either man when their friends and acquaintances finally decided to intervene. Even so, when during one loaded afternoon Akabane happened to stop by the Honky Tonk for a cup of tea at about the same time Ban had decided it was a good opportunity to try to bum a spare pack of cigarettes off of Paul, the festering tension between the two could no longer be ignored.

Ginji said something – for the life of him Ban couldn't remember what, later on – but it annoyed him enough to lean forward and swat the blond hard enough to send him and the plate of ham sandwich he was carrying sprawling onto the floor. The yelp and thud of a human weight told Ban that Ginji would be fine; the crack of a porcelain dish informed him that he could add another needless expense to an already overdrawn tab. He cursed colorfully, which drew Paul's attention.

"Take it elsewhere if you're going to have a burr up your ass today. Fuyuki's due here in about fifteen minutes to meet a client and I don't want any more broken shards to sweep up," the owner told him bluntly.

"So what else is new," Ban muttered, and motioned to Ginji that it was time to hit the road. To his surprise, Ginji hesitated, and slowly edged away to the back of the shop where a likewise worried Natsumi was crouched with a broom, reassuring a nervous Rena that their patron's malaise wasn't directed at her.

Jesus. He _must_ be acting like an ass, if even his own partner and his partner's normally happy-go-lucky crush wouldn't come near him. Ban cursed again and ran a hand through his hair.

He found himself caught then in a pincer-grip by Paul and dragged out of the cafe. "What the – " Scent hit him then, acrid and sickly-sweet, and Ban had just enough time to spit out an enraged obscenity before Himiko's puppet perfume took control of his body.

"_What the fuck do you think you're doing, Himiko!"_

"Giving you a taste of your own medicine," she snapped. "Move!"

Over his vitriol Ban heard Akabane protesting when someone – he couldn't be certain, but it sounded like the thread-spool's bodyguard – somehow managed to immobilize him as well, and drag him along right behind Ban. As he was presently unable to turn his head to look thanks to the brat's poison perfume, this remained unconfirmed until the group reassembled inside the apartment building shortly afterwards.

Himiko made him unlock the door and then frog-marched him into the living room and ordered him down onto the couch. Next to him, a squalling Akabane was unceremoniously dumped onto the cushions by his driver, No-Brakes, and when the other transporter withdrew Ban could see that Jackal had indeed been temporarily paralyzed by Kakei Juubei's specialty needles.

Thread-spool's personal physician sensed him staring, and gave Ban a grim nod. "_Tobari_ are sensitive to the body's pressure points," he explained curtly while withdrawing each of the instruments.

"This conduct is most unbefitting a fellow colleague of your status, Kakei-san," Akabane hissed, attempting to squirm his way to complete freedom as each needle was removed and granted him more mobility. "Rest assured, Fuuchouin-san will hear of this!"

"If Kazuki were here now you wouldn't be capable of speech," Juubei said without rancor. "As for conduct, a healer's code and a mercenary's are two different worlds. Therefore the distinctions issued by one such as you remain inapplicable to me."

Ban snorted, wishing that he had a cigarette. "I'll be damned, pincushion. That may be the funniest thing ever to exit your mouth."

That earned him a fast slap to the head from Himiko. "Too bad you can't learn some discretion when it comes to that gaping canyon in your own face," she told him.

"You insolent runt – "

"_ENOUGH!"_

Paul's word was sacrosanct, even when not confined to the four walls of the Honky Tonk. Immediately everyone hushed and stared at him as he took up center position in front of Ban and Akabane.

"Bad atmosphere gives a place a reputation. You two have managed to scare off more customers in a single week than the Get Backers have in the handful of years I've given them undeserved squatting rights."

He reached up and took down his glasses, and nearly everyone in the room sucked in an audible breath of incredulity. Paul _never_ went without his glasses.

His eyes, from what Ban could see, were colored a vibrant burnished copper. One of them was plainly marked with a cross symbol in the center of the pupil.

Ban felt the bottom of his stomach suddenly drop out. Even without that baleful reminder of Mugenjou, the thunder on Paul's face was enough to make his insides quail. Not for nothing, he remembered, had this man once been known as the fearsome Gale Emperor in his time.

"I don't know what started the fight. I don't care. But you two are not to set foot in my shop again until you've resolved it, one way or another. Do I make myself _crystal_ clear?"

Silence, thick and forbidding, permeated the room. "Yes," Akabane growled quietly at length.

Paul turned to Ban. "Ban?"

He knew better than to make a smart-assed reply. Gulping down the acidic sting of his own bile, he muttered, "Yeah." No wonder his father had kept him as a partner. Scolding aside, Paul was _serious_ and formidable business when truly angered.

The shopkeeper stared at them both a second longer, and then left with a brusque nod, replacing his glasses as he exited the apartment.

No-Brakes Maguruma spoke next. "Yeah. That goes double for you," he said, jabbing a finger at a pouting Akabane. "No free rides till you're back to your happy homicidal self again. This last week's batch of trips was about as much fun as an all-nighter in whiteout with a blown tire and a seized engine." He stalked off.

Ban waited to be sure that Paul was beyond hearing range – and to ensure that the last of Himiko's perfume had worn off – before leaping to his feet and confronting his attacker before she could make her own escape. "You ever splash me with that crap again and a microscopic bust is gonna be the least of your troubles!"

"You're just lucky the first bottle I reached for wasn't the flame one, or you'd be picking yourself up off the floor with a dustpan!" Himiko retorted. "Paul's right, and so is Maguruma, and both of you know it. You two have been insufferable and I'm tempted to drown you in oblivion perfume just so the rest of us can have some peace!"

Edges clicked noticeably in Akabane's hand and he rose from the couch. "That would not be advisable, Himiko-san," he warned in his quintessential smoothness.

Far from intimidated, she made a noise of disgust. "Shut up, Akabane. Learn to be human for once in your life, you might enjoy it instead of pretending to be untouchable all the time," Himiko snapped as she gave his midsection a rough shove backwards. Startled, he bumped against the couch and flopped onto it, openmouthed. Ban couldn't help but utter a cackle at his boyfriend's stunned expression.

His amusement was quickly squashed by Ginji's stepping into the fray. "Ban-chan, you shut up too."

Ban whirled, intending to deal his scowling partner another whopping like the one he'd gotten in the Honky Tonk – only to pull his punch in time to avoid skewering himself on Juubei's emerging needles.

"I never disavowed my loyalty to the Lightning Emperor," the samurai coolly reminded him.

"Well, the Emperor isn't here right now, is he?" Ban said nastily, hating the fact that he was outclassed here and there was little he could do about it.

"Don't make me bring him out, Ban-chan," Ginji warned. "'Cause I will if you keep on being mean to all our friends."

"You wouldn't _dare._"

The defiant gleam in Ginji's eyes and the set of his jaw sent Ban's stomach sinking even further when he saw in their big brown depths that oh yes, he _would, _despite knowing the risks that entailed. Ginji had a stubbornness that put mules to shame.

Akabane chose that moment to goad the tension. "Much though I would dearly love to see that, Ginji-kun," he chuckled, rising from the couch once more, "I think you're bluffing. Ginji Amano would never harm anyone past the point of no return."

Ginji held his ground. "No. But Raitei would. Now sit down, Akabane-san."

The transporter didn't budge, and warning sirens clamored louder in Ban's head. "Are you issuing a challenge?" Jackal all but whispered in a promise of death.

"That depends. What kind of scalpels are you carrying today, Akabane-san?"

It was easy to forget that there was more than one person in the room who knew how to wield steel to a devastating effect. Ban just wished that Ginji would use this quality more often instead of saving it for the most inopportune times. Akabane's eyes widened ever so slightly as he was taken aback by the assertion, and then narrowed as he slowly, slowly lowered himself back onto the couch, having no wish to endure another messy evisceration from his own weapons.

Ginji nodded his satisfaction. "That's better. You should try to work out whatever it is that made you mad at each other." Ignoring Ban's loud huff and Akabane's haughty sniff, he continued. "I know you can make things right again, because you want to be with each other too much to let a petty argument stand in the way."

"Idiot," Ban groused. "What the hell do you know about it?"

"More than you seem to," Himiko countered. She looked at Akabane, who was sitting rigidly with legs crossed, arms folded over his chest and nose in the air. "Some battles you can't win with fighting. You may be able to attack what's physical, but you can't defeat your own intangible heart."

She nodded at Ginji, and they left the lovers in stony silence.

Well. This was going to be a fun afternoon, Ban thought sourly. He chanced a peek at Akabane and was gratified to see that the other man seemed about as put out by the edicts handed down by their mutual friends and acquaintances. Stung though they both were by the dressing-down they'd received, maybe now they'd be able to make some headway in their standoff.

Ban wasn't above a little judicious needling, however. Part of him was still sore by the crack about his mother that Akabane had lobbed earlier at him, and he wanted a little revenge. Using the kind of approach guaranteed to earn a response, he smirked at Akabane and said, "Never thought I'd see the day when the infamous Doctor Jackal would let himself be run over roughshod by a girl half his size."

The transporter was predictably not amused. "I didn't see you faring any better. After all, I'm not the one who was dosed by poison perfume," Akabane replied coolly.

_Touche'._ Scowling, Ban said, "She knew I was the bigger threat. She knows she can't boss me around the way she does with you."

"Himiko-san does _not_ order me about," Akabane said indignantly.

"Oh yeah? What do you call being jerked around on a choke chain leash, then?"

Akabane's scowl matched his. "It would hardly be appropriate if I dispatched my own colleague. We work best when delegating tasks, and it simply happens that she is better suited towards handling client arrangements when we're partnered on a job."

"Which is just a flowery way of saying that you let her use you like a Persian carpet."

"At least I listen to her," Akabane growled. "Himiko-san is a very capable ally. And even if what is spoken of is nothing but useless things, I see no harm in allowing someone their due piece, so long as it doesn't interfere with my purposes."

"So she _is_ right," Ban said, sliding his barb home. "You can fight anything and everything – except your own human emotions." He stood up from the couch. "For an overzealous brat, she sure is spot-on about some things."

"I think you err in assumption," Akabane said, his tone sliding into subzero as he rose in turn. "As a battle genius, you ought to understand that knowing and controlling oneself is the first step towards defeating an enemy. Allowing emotion to get in the way of a fight can only bring disaster."

"Is that why you gave up medicine?" Ban asked. "It was all one big fight for you?"

"What if it was?" Akabane responded harshly. "They say you're not supposed to take it personally, but how can one not? Doctors are _supposed_ to fight with death. And yet they fail. Why is that?" An ageless frustration had begun to seethe with every word. "Why is that, Serpent-Bearer? If anyone ought to know, it should be you, with your patron's glimpse of eternal wisdom..."

Ban stared incredulously at him. "You think I know how to deal with death any better than you do? I've been living in its shadow my whole life and I still don't have a clue how to get it off my back!" He spread his arms in a gesture of equally frustrated helplessness. "It's just…just one of those…_things,_" he finished on a lower note. "Natural law, I guess – "

"_Fuck natural law!"_

Jackal's voice was pure ice, hard and low and hot with its singularly blistering contempt. The vulgar explosion shocked them both, and not least of all because Akabane _never_ used curse words even when he was seriously upset about something. "I've heard it thousands of times before and I'm _sick_ of it! Natural law is a cheap way out, nothing more than a layperson's banal attempt to offer a pathetic excuse in the wake of failure!"

"Failure at what?" Ban demanded. "For Chrissakes, Akabane, doctors aren't gods. They can't help it if – "

There were many words for enlightenment. Had Fudou been present, he doubtless would have come up with several such – after he'd finished pounding Ban's skull to a pulp, of course. In their culture, it was defined as _satori,_ that singularly stunning moment of clarity where the simplest mental key unlocks all mystery. Ban felt a tension that had nothing to do with the coiling of Aesclepius unravel throughout his body.

"Doctors aren't gods," he repeated now, his temper having dissipated somewhat in the wake of this understanding. "They're only human, and human beings screw up, or they make honest mistakes, and shit happens. Hell, it happens even when there's nobody at fault."

"But it's not _supposed_ to!" Akabane was as bewildered as he was conflicted. "Even if this is a fallen world, even if you believe in cosmic forces that govern it, death should not happen where there is knowledge and skill to combat it! I don't understand how, when I've struggled for ages - how can life be so _weak_ in the face of such overwhelming odds – "

"Will you listen to yourself? You're making the same mistake as those bastards in Babylon City!" Ban ventured a step closer to his distraught lover. "There's a reason pride is one of the seven deadly sins. Don't you see, Akabane? Sometimes _shit just happens._ And it's not because you messed up, or because somebody was weak, or because some enemy had a vendetta. Cutting yourself off from all emotions can't possibly give you any pleasure; it just makes life that much more unbearable!"

Akabane had started shaking. Those purple eyes were filled with terrible memories that until now had slumbered undisturbed. Ban realized that the other man must have been navigating the same perilous quandary of raw nerves he'd been experiencing in recent weeks. The thought touched an unexpected chord.

The transporter spoke, doing his best to maintain a level tone, though he wasn't very successful. "What's it matter to you? We're both guilty of the same sins, aren't we?"

"Yeah. But at least we can take the damnation head-on together, as opposed to total abandonment. I made a promise too, don't forget." Ban remembered the night he and Ginji had formed their partnership, how Ginji had suggested sharing their collective pain in order to grow stronger from it, and he felt a curious hope buoying within. For the first time since hitting rock bottom after Yamato's death, he'd felt it then, a sense that just maybe things would even out and be all right in the end, and he felt that same desperation now, looking into the mirror of his own hate and fear.

He moved closer and held out his hand to Akabane. "As long as we can stay together, I'd rather take my chances against fate."

Akabane looked at the hand as though it might bite him. He didn't seem to know what to do, and finally he looked at Ban with torment visible in his eyes. "No one has ever asked to share my pain before," he whispered, partly from wonder that anyone would even care to make the offer.

"I'm asking now," Ban said softly. "We made it this far, didn't we?"

Akabane didn't reply. He lowered his darkened eyes to the floor, posture having lost its starch as if some unseen puppet strings had been severed and rendered his form as malleable as a rag doll's. He stood this way for a while, staring at nothing in particular, lost in a world of thought before the gears reset themselves again and he began drifting with ethereal grace towards the bedroom without a word to his lover.

Ban felt a surprising spike of pain well in his chest, crushing the dream he'd been hoping to build on of any future relationship. Rejected? Well, it wasn't as if he'd never had that happen to him before. But why should this one hurt so damned much? Because he'd put so much effort into something he'd honestly believed in, devoted his time and faith to -

He dropped into the couch and buried his face in his hands, a sudden weariness overtaking him as it drained his bones of any lingering energy. He had no idea what to do now. He felt like a foreigner incapable of grasping the simple linguistics of communication long unfamiliar to him.

So caught up in his own ruminations was he that he almost missed Akabane's return. Only the rustle of fabric penetrated his haze, and Ban looked up to see his lover standing in front of him. Akabane had composed his face into a perfect blank, one that Ban recognized only too well from their days when they'd been at odds more often than not. That cruel lifelessness was something that, once he'd spent enough time with Ginji to see how things could be, Ban knew that he never wanted to experience again in any lifetime.

Akabane was holding a small cardboard folder which looked like it had seen better days. Its edges were frayed and worn, but it was in sturdy enough shape to protect its contents. He carefully passed this to Ban and began to speak, all traces of feeling stripped from his hesitant voice.

"When I was still practicing, I had reached a plateau where ordinary work no longer held interest. I wanted to do something that would exemplify the talent I possessed. Then I was conscripted into army service as a medic. That was how I came to meet Kanade Semimaru."

Ban had opened the folder. He studied the faded sepia tones while Akabane moved over to look out the window.

"I don't remember most of the names of all the places we traveled to. I couldn't tell you what they were even if I did recall any. Soldiers say that war is hell, and we were constantly surrounded by it, so perhaps hell is the only name truly suitable for those locations. Certainly, Semimaru had the power to make it so – his troops and his foes alike called him the Genocide Sergeant, because he never left a battlefield without drenching the lands in the blood of every single one of his enemies.

"He was a killer; I was a healer, and yet we became friends. Close enough that he eventually asked me to be the godfather for his son, a boy whom he doted on and whom I had come to care for as deeply as if Senichi had been of my own flesh. I had no living relatives I could turn to, so Semimaru and his son became my family. There was another, too, a woman Semimaru was fond of, though they weren't betrothed to one another. We were friends, all of us, and we looked after each other, taught each other how to appreciate the written word, or fine cooking, or basic self-defense." Despite his efforts to remain above emotion, a twinge of wistful affection had crept into Akabane's tone. "And we kept watch over Senichi. Everyone adored Senichi, even his father's regiment…"

Ban looked at the little boy's megawatt grin in the tattered photograph. He couldn't repress a shiver at how starkly the child's cheery demeanor reminded him of Ginji's own innocent delight.

"No matter what his sins, there was nothing Semimaru would not do for his child. The same man who shed countless drops of blood in a fight but not a single one for quarter would without hesitation have slain himself, if it meant saving the life of his son. Senichi took after his father in temperament. Though I suppose all children enjoy exploring what must seem to them exotic surroundings. I see the same in Ginji-kun, even now. He looks at everything as fresh, something new to be cherished and enjoyed, doesn't he? And we who are darkness cannot help but be drawn to those who light our paths…"

In the picture Ban held, the man in military dress stood proud, back arched, broad smile proclaiming his invincibility to the world. It would have seemed that he had every reason to think he held the world in his palm, for despite the hardened experience present in the lines and calluses of his skin, Semimaru had also known enough joy to gird the sorrows he bore. The same impish glee beaming from his son lent a regal air to his father's too-knowing gaze.

"One day a battle was taking place too close to the settlement. I had already long since tired of making my rounds, cleaning the wounds of some men who would perish from infection, amputating the gangrenous limbs of others who would survive. Nothing made any sense to me any more." Akabane had raised his hands, palms up, and was studying them as though some sensible answer might materialize at his fingertips. Bitterness curdled his voice. "I started using my own drugs to be able to sleep off-shift because I couldn't rest without hearing, even in memory, the cries and the screams and the gurgling death-gasps. I couldn't close my eyes without seeing the charred shreds of meat explosives and bullets were capable of reducing bloody human flesh to."

He was shaking again. Ban looked to the last person in the picture, then at the man time and chance had whittled out of the former surgeon. He wanted to do something, wished he could reassure Akabane that those ghosts had no bearing on their life now, but he knew it would be futile and condescending to say so. As a young boy he himself had seen things at least as bad as the horrors his lover was describing, but those sobering footnotes had always been tempered by the knowledge that they were just that, footnotes to be endured before the next respite of freedom and safety from persecution. Akabane had found no such relief from his nightmare, and probably never had.

"The worst part was in knowing that despite all my training, all my efforts to preserve their vitality, the entire lot of them would shortly die. Not even honorable deaths such as one might find in facing an opponent in equal terms on the battlefield. They were to be slaughtered like sheep to wolves when they were at their most vulnerable. Semimaru and I were the only ones who survived." Akabane's voice cracked. "Senichi…" He drew a long, shuddering breath, the tail end coming out in a barely audible whisper. "I killed him."

Ban looked at the person in the picture that he was most interested in. A younger, gentler Kuroudo Akabane, dressed in the clean white of a physician's lab coat, smiled back at him almost shyly, but no less happily than his companions. Though the constant strain of war efforts had stained those beautiful purple eyes, they hadn't yet taken on the jaded cynicism of the current transporter's, nor had they erased all existence of a human being to leave behind an empty shell. This was someone who had, at one time, still been readily capable of humanity and of showing mercy.

Ban inexplicably felt dampness rushing to his eyes, and blinked it back. Had he ever been like that himself, still damaged but not completely shattered? He must have been, even if he couldn't remember it. He thought of things he'd said to Ginji, of stuff Ginji had told him. There was meaning in being alive, meaning in one's feelings if one was aware that one had free will of choice.

He and Akabane had lost whatever choice they'd had, long ago, in places far removed geographically but akin to next door in terms of shared sorrows. In the present…they'd both made a conscious choice to fashion something out of this bizarre bond, and it had startled them both by blossoming into something neither one of them had even considered possible. Against expectations, they'd chosen to nurture it, and now they were both relearning what it meant to be human.

He looked up again at his Akabane, a shadowy wraith silhouetted in the waning hours of daylight. "How did the boy die?"

The transporter was quiet for several minutes. He remained facing the window. "Land mine," he murmured.

"_Mein Gott,"_ Ban mumbled. He'd seen pictures of those damn things in history books. Land mines were the perfect way to reduce an enemy to a pile of bloody mush.

"I was afraid Senichi would become a target for the armies his father was engaging near our settlement. I thought he might be safer away from it, so I sent him to a forested enclosure he was fond of frequenting when no danger was present. I may as well have just slashed his throat with a scalpel and spared everyone the pretense," Akabane said bitterly, and now his voice rapidly degenerated into wavering self-flagellation. "He took the back end of an explosive charge that was buried in the ground. His father brought him to me in _pieces._"

He choked on a sob then, harsh and unforgiving as it burst from his lips. Arms wrapped tightly around himself Akabane bent almost double then, trembling so violently that no force on earth could have compelled him to stop. Ban tossed the photograph he was holding onto the coffee table and jumped up to go to his side.

"It's always different until it's one of your own. Always. Semimaru begged me to save his life. I pleaded with Almighty God Himself to let Senichi live, even as I was trying to keep the boy from bleeding to death because he was missing body parts. The limbs couldn't even be reattached. They were cooked to hamburger by the explosion." Akabane had tears streaming in rivers down his face now, eyes squeezed shut in brutal remembrance. "I did everything I could, I swear on my own lifeblood I did. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough. Senichi was crying and there was blood _everywhere,_ on him, on me, and he was so _scared._ He kept asking me if he was dying and I lied to him because I didn't want him to suffer more. I was there when he took his last breath and perished in my arms."

Ban reached out to put a hand on Akabane's shoulder, and the touch was the trigger his lover needed to spiral out of the remnants of his control.

"Don't! I don't want your pity! I don't want your worthless condolences!" the other man hissed, lips peeled back in a fierce snarl as he shoved Ban backwards. His eyes were wild with the insanity of festering grief. "Nothing can make up for the injustice of death, not in this world, not in any world!"

"Akabane – "

Akabane flew at him in a blind rage, swiping at Ban not with knives but fingers curved into claws. He landed blow after blow in rapid succession, Ban reeling beneath the onslaught. "Tell me, what stops the pain, Serpent-Bearer? What works? Nothing! Everything I've ever tried has failed! I'm _sick_ of this helplessness, this mockery made out of life!" His rasp blew over Ban, hot like the desert wind. "If I cannot bring life, I will cheat the reaper myself! Through my blades the unfit are judged, through my blood the worthy will know true peace! Nothing else is worth living for anymore!"

Ban bore the relentless pounding, painful though it was. He was more afraid for Akabane, whose appearance resembled something close to demonic. Eyes wide, teeth bared and jaw clenched, hair flying about his face, the transporter had lost all semblance of composure in his manic rambling. In that terrifying picture of cold viciousness, Ban saw himself as he'd felt years ago, when he'd punched a hole in Yamato's chest to save them all from the voodoo's curse.

Scalpels shot forth from Akabane's fists and he reared back to plunge them into Ban, not seeing his lover now but caught up in a vision of his own dementia. Ban thought for sure this was it, he was done for – Akabane had gotten him in a hold and was pinning him to the wall with enough force to keep Ban from either escaping or using his Snakebite – he saw the blue lightning sweep down in its deadly arc, wondered if he'd die straight away or if the punctures would be enough to assuage Jackal's lethal desire – then terror unlike anything he'd ever seen flickered in Akabane's eyes and he barely managed to seize in place, stopping a heartbeat away from impaling Ban's vitals.

A strangled moan tore itself from Akabane's throat as he realized what he'd been about to do, and he bolted away from Ban and drove the knives smack into his own chest.

"_Akabane!"_

As fast as he was, a horrified Ban still couldn't reach the other man in time to prevent him from driving scalpels repeatedly into his body, turning the points to his torso, his thighs, his palms. Blood splattered the floor and the walls and the furniture, whipping in beaded ropes from the scalpels every time they rose and fell. Ban grabbed for Akabane's wrists, heedless of the danger of losing limbs himself, and they struggled for control of the knives before the injuries he'd sustained exacted a noticeable price on Akabane.

The transporter collapsed, panting, blood dribbling from his mouth as he hacked and coughed up red gobs of it – he must have punctured a lung – waiting out the brief recovery period while his body reabsorbed what it had lost. Ban sank to the floor with him, ignoring the blood smearing across his own clothes and skin as he pulled Akabane into his embrace, and they cleaved together in a crumpled tangle.

"Akabane. My God Akabane. It wasn't your fault."

Akabane shook his bowed head. "He trusted me. And I failed him. Just like I failed his father, my friend. The only true friend I ever had."

He curled into a wretched ball then, sobbing mutely with restrained but heartfelt anguish. Tears poured like rain from the clouds of raven hair that curtained his face from Ban's, forming puddles or marks where they landed on bare surface or clothing, streaking the remaining trails of blood on his person.

Ban held tight to him, tucking Akabane into the corner of his shoulder, rocking him gently as he stroked the mass of long hair, which was growing moist from his own considerable tears.

"It was the same way for me when Yamato died," he told Akabane.

The other man only continued to cry, and the thin wails he managed to give voice to worried Ban further when they dissolved into a series of fast, shuddering hiccoughs. Having dammed up his emotions for so long, Akabane was unprepared for the storm of hyperventilation unleashed by those broken gates, and couldn't have stopped his body from purging the toxicity now even if he'd wanted or tried to. He was literally drowning in his own grief, suffocating on the mass of emotion he'd denied himself for so long.

"Easy. Easy. Slow, deep breaths," Ban counseled, slapping Akabane's back hard several times to interrupt the spasms, then rubbing it to soothe him. "One at a time. Yeah, like that." He spoke in low, quiet tones, pressing his lips to Akabane's ear as he held him close.

Eventually the hurricane blew out its worst and Akabane's sobs subsided, diminishing into hiccupping whimpers. His nose was running almost as much as his tears were, and he hunched over, thoroughly humiliated, all dignity ripped to scraps by this breaking point. Ban wiped his own face with one arm and silently searched the pockets of the tattered black coat for a handkerchief – he knew from past observation that Akabane always carried one – and when he located it, nearly had it snatched from his hand.

Akabane all but buried his face in the cloth, letting loose a coarse blast of a horn when he blew his nose. Subsequent attempts were more subdued, and the remaining dry corners of the handkerchief, he used to wipe at the wetness soaking his cheeks. He struggled to form new words.

"Seeing that boy in the alley, the other day…I felt so _powerless._ Weakness is all the same, the ripening of a new sacrifice for those strong enough to endure. The only thing I can do now is to give someone a resolution that is pure, one without prolonged cruelty. I'm useless for eliminating suffering. Semimaru said as much, when he told me that that was the day we both realized my true purpose was to deliver death instead of life."

The knife burrowed a little deeper into Ban's heart. "Akabane…if it was anything like the things Himiko said to me when we were still on the outs, I'm sure your friend didn't mean that how it sounded. People say a lot of exaggerated stuff when they're upset and not thinking straight. I do it all the time, with you, Ginji, Himiko…anybody."

"It's not exaggerated if it's justified," Akabane sniffled.

"By whose claim?" Ban's back was aching from the floor and his curved position in holding his lover, but he pushed the discomfort to the back of his thoughts. "If that little boy could talk to you right now, I bet he would know that you did everything you could to save him. If we're going to assign blame here, what the hell was Semimaru doing with a kid in a goddamn war zone? It was a recipe for disaster. I have no doubt that he's given himself at least as much misery over it as you have, deserved or not. Don't you think everyone's suffered enough?"

"But – "

Ban put his hand over Akabane's mouth. "Trust me. Wherever he is right now, Senichi understands and forgives you. Semimaru, too. It's time to stop punishing yourself for something you had no control over."

A voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Yamato crowed over the hypocrisy of that statement. Ban blinked away the sudden sting of pain and focused on Akabane.

A small watershed of tears welled anew in Akabane's eyes. "I thought you would hate me if you knew. I don't know why that idea hurts, but I couldn't bear it. I couldn't bear the thought of you looking at me with the same disgust as Ginji-kun when he sees what I do. I can accept it from him, because of what he is…but you…"

Ban stroked a few tendrils of hair out of his lover's face. "I've never hated you, and neither has Ginji. Not even when we weren't on better terms. We hate the needless killing. You and I both know that there are times when lethal force can't be helped, and, I think, so does Ginji, even if he won't admit it. But those times are far and few between. We know you have the capacity to be a better person than that, even if you insist on denying it. If you and I are the same, then Ginji must've been right when he saw something of value in me when I was at my worst, because I see plenty of worth in you, and I've hung around you long enough to know all the dirty tricks you come up with."

Akabane stared, lips parted in disbelief. "Then, all of the past arguing…the fights we had…it means that you still want to be with me?" he whispered.

Ban held the gaze. "Yes." He paused, taking hold of Akabane's hand and peeling away the ruined glove, and squeezed his hand firmly. "Do you still want to be with me?"

"You know that I do," the transporter sighed, throwing his arms around Ban and clasping him tightly.

They held the embrace for a long time, neither of them willing to give up the fragile comfort they'd found in their shared understanding. But Ban's back had had enough, and a twisting pain warned him he'd better move or face stronger reminders. Reluctantly he eased his hold, but didn't take his hands off of Akabane, instead sitting up to give his abused spine some breathing room. "You were right," Ban sighed, wrinkling his damp nose to keep his glasses from sliding completely loose. "I _was_ being an asshole."

Akabane's look melted into tenderness. "It is I that ought to apologize," he demurred. "Oh, Midou-kun. I behaved poorly too." He stroked Ban's face, fingertips lingering along the side of his cheekbone. "I said the most awful things to you. Will you forgive me?"

Ban ruffled the long, tangled hair. "Idiot," he said gruffly. "There's nothing to forgive."

Akabane's eyes drooped. "I hurt you."

"Not that badly," Ban lied, thinking of all the bruises he was going to have by tomorrow.

"Words are just as deadly as blades. I had no right to say what I did about your mother," Akabane said.

Ban shrugged, recalling the bittersweet memories of the only time in his life when he'd felt some inkling of normality – when it had been his father and not the man called Der Kaiser, his mother and not the woman who'd shrieked that she'd birthed a demon, and him, Ban, and not the freak who was both blessed and cursed with the strength of a god and the will of a witch. Did such reminders really matter any more?

He had, if not friends, allies he knew he could count on when he needed a backup. He had Paul, aggravating old bastard that he was. He had Himiko. He had his partner, Ginji, a truer brother than any he could have ever asked for in the flesh. Most importantly, he had someone who would take him for all that he was and would be. He had Akabane.

The latter was cupping Ban's face in his hands and nuzzling him. "I have never felt this way before. What do you do to me, Midou Ban?" he murmured.

"I could ask the same of you, Akabane Kuroudo," Ban replied, marveling at the way fate seemed to have spun him around in its cloth to this end. That they could still stand after their trial by ordeal, and come out with bonds intact, was nothing short of a miracle. "You know I actually missed the sight of that dumb hat of yours? You wear it just to piss me off, don't you?"

Akabane managed a tiny laugh. "You wear your glasses just to annoy me in turn." He reached up and tugged down the lenses. "Someday soon, Midou-kun, I want you to give me another dream. You're simply the most enchanting person I've ever known. Do you know that I tried smoking while we were separated? I missed the stench of those vile things you adore so much. That's why Maguruma was angry with me. I kept cluttering the inside of his truck with used cigarette butts!"

"I _thought_ there was something different about your breath when I got a whiff of it earlier." A throaty laugh burst from Ban. "Great, now we can share a pack of smokes when the going gets rough!"

"I don't think so."

"You're not addicted to 'em?"

Akabane shook his head. "Of course not! Those things will kill you, after all."

Ban laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jackal, Jackal, Jackal." He looked at his lover and they both smiled as they took in each other's bedraggled, bloody, and beaten appearance. "Christ, we're a pair, aren't we?" He grunted and winced when he shifted. "Next time we get serious, _I_ lead the offensive."

"I know just the fix for aching muscles," Akabane soothed, helping him to rise as they both climbed to their feet.

"I'll bet you do," Ban snorted. "'Cured yesterday of my disease, I died last night of my physician.' Matthew Prior. You're so predictable sometimes, Jackal."

Akabane looked bemused. "Midou-kun, if I ever bore you, it will be with this," he said, twirling a scalpel between his fingers.

--

TBC


	27. The Language Of Love part 3

Happy New Year's and best wishes for 2008 to everyone! – smile -

Title: The Language of Love  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #4 – "our distance and that person"

Rating: R (violence, language, disturbing war imagery)

Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for both Ban's and Akabane's pasts.

Notes: A companion piece to Crossroads, so it will make more sense if you've read that one.

- Don't worry, Kagami fans. I may love to torment him, but he doesn't die in this. Really.

- Due to the length of this fic, I'm posting it in chapters.  
Disclaimer: I'd love to own GB's wonderful characters, but guess what? I don't. :cries:  
Summary: Call to me, and I will hear you even in the distance…

--

_IV: Nacht der langen Messer (Night Of The Long Knives)_

Change is a constant – the computer boy would have called it chaos theory – but Ban knew this was just a way of saying that everything runs in cycles. Still, he was glad of the calmer atmosphere that had settled in the past few days. He'd had enough stress to last a while.

So, too, was Paul thankful for the peace. He didn't even hassle the Get Backers about their tab when they took up space at their usual counter position and ordered fresh coffee and breakfast. While they devoured their fare, Ban and Ginji discussed the strategy for their latest job.

True to form, as soon as business was out of the way Ginji turned the topic to Ban's personal life. "I'm really glad you and Akabane-san made up, Ban-chan."

Ban shrugged. "Heh. Thanks."

"I mean it," Ginji continued. "You guys have come so far, and you're better off taking your chances together. Those were smart words. Just like the S in Get Backers means that we're not alone either." He beamed.

For a moment Ban couldn't place why that sounded so familiar to him. Then he did, and he boxed Ginji's ears soundly. "Why you – you were _eavesdropping!_"

"Ban-chan!" The squealing tare squirmed beneath the punishment. "I was just worried about you guys! I didn't mean anything by it!"

The annoying thing was that he was right. Ginji would focus concern over an insect if he thought it was in need of aid. Ban found he didn't have the heart or the energy to give his partner the thorough flogging he deserved. Grumbling, he let go of Ginji and said, "You're lucky I've got smokes and food today. Next time you won't get off with a few words." He paused to finish off the last of his meal. "Anyway, I thought you were too scared of Doctor Jackal to worry about him."

"I am scared," Ginji admitted, rubbing his ears. "He still kills on the job, doesn't he?"

"Yeah. But he's getting better. I've gotten him to think it over before he follows through with the J, at least." Ban eyed Ginji curiously. "You know it's not something that's going to change overnight." _If ever,_ he silently added.

"I know. I just don't let it bother me anymore. At least, not as much as it used to."

"Oh?"

"What I mean is," Ginji amended, "I know that Akabane-san can't help the way he is. But you've been helping him unlearn what makes him find happiness in death. You know how miserable that feels, and so do I." Brown eyes dimmed for a second of remembrance. "It's a scary, lonely place to be stuck in, huh Ban-chan?" He brightened then, offering his friend an encouraging smile. "But you taught me that it doesn't have to be like that. You've got the biggest heart of anybody I've ever met, Ban-chan, and every day I'm so thankful that we're friends. I just want for you to have your share of happiness."

Embarrassed by the effuse praise, Ban ducked his head. "Me and my big mouth. Maybe Himiko was right."

"It's true," Ginji insisted.

"It's stupid," Ban muttered, again feeling a nagging doubt about the wisdom of pursuing this unorthodox relationship. He brushed it away with a rough mental shove. He refused to let anything get in the way of his current good mood.

Ginji shook his head. "No, it's not, Ban-chan. It's never stupid to worry over somebody you care about. Isn't that what you're always telling me when I get in trouble? You say, 'Ginji, if it gets bad, call me, and I'll come for you.' And you do. You're always there for me when I really need you, Ban-chan." He looked pleased with himself.

Ban sighed. "Yeah, I know. But, Ginji, this is different. You and Akabane aren't the same."

Ginji frowned. "I'm not so sure of that…"

"How so?"

Ginji cocked his head, considering as he grew somber again. "When we first met him, I used to think that Akabane-san was a bad person. But once we got to know him better, I could see that he's really just the same as me. He hurts so much, Ban-chan. That's why he's fooled himself into finding pleasure in that pain. I did the same thing as Raitei. All of us are doing penance in our own way for past failures. But none of us will ever find what we're trying to get back by ourselves. We have to do it together to find the heaven that we want."

Ban's brows lifted in surprise at this thoughtful analysis. "Pretty sage words, coming from a guy who can't tell the difference between the Venus de Milo and the Statue of Liberty."

"It really does look like an ice cream cone in her hand, you know," Ginji pointed out.

"That's a torch, you dumbass – "

The tinkling of the doorbell distracted Ban from planting a foot in his art knowledge-deficient partner's face. Akabane had arrived, dressed in his usual outfit. "Look what the courier dragged in," Ban said. "I thought you had the day off."

"Last-minute mystery client," Akabane said. He smiled at Ginji, who was hunkering down beside Ban. "Hello, Ginji-kun. I trust you're well today?"

"Ehrm, I'm fine, Akabane-san," the tare stammered. "Thanks."

Akabane acknowledged this with a nod, and gave Ban his attention. "I thought I would stop by on my way out to let you know. The delivery shouldn't take but half a day. It's a local job."

"Good," Ban said. "Keep your evening free. I've got plans for us."

Akabane's smile turned coy. "Oh really? They wouldn't happen to involve planning for our vacation in Europe, now, would they?"

Europe. This glittering pinnacle tempted them with the allure of an as-yet uncharted path they were journeying together. It would be the fulfillment of the promises they'd made to each other. "They just might," Ban said, unable to help the rise of excitement stirring in his chest at the thought. Impulsively, he grabbed Akabane's coat lapel and drew the transporter in for a kiss.

"You two should go and see the Venus de Milo," Ginji said, making a point to poke Ban's ribs as he spoke the famous statue's name. "And the Great Wall."

Ban rolled his eyes. "Idiot! The Wall's in China! God, I swear you could get lost in the Honky Tonk, your sense of geography sucks so bad."

Akabane chuckled. "Perhaps Ginji-kun is merely inspired by the poet Robert Frost. There is always enjoyment to be found in taking roads less traveled, hmm?"

"Not when your guide is a directionally-impaired electric eel," Ban snorted, bopping Ginji on the head. "You hoofing it today, or has No-Brakes deemed you hazard-compliant enough for his wheels?"

Akabane adjusted his hat. "It's a solo assignment. A new client requested my services from one of my regulars." He tilted his head. "I take it you haven't told anyone else that we've satisfactorily resolved our argument?"

"Nah. Let 'em sweat it out, wondering if they'll be called over with a bucket and a mop to clean up what's left. Himiko deserves extra misery for making me inhale puppet perfume. I always wondered why Yamato saved that one for the last of her lessons and now I know why. She's power-crazed."

"But she's cute when she's mad at you," Ginji said. "I bet she could beat you up if she got serious!"

Ban shot him one of his best _drop-dead_ glares. "Don't make me use the Snakebite this early in the morning. My coffee hasn't told me to kill anybody yet and I'd like to keep it that way."

Akabane hummed with amusement. "I suppose I ought to be on my way, then." He stooped to allow Ban another kiss. "Would you like me to call you after I'm through?"

"Yeah. Oh, and Jackal, one more thing." At Akabane's interested look, Ban reached up and pulled him down for more kisses. "There. Oh, hey, wait, I remembered something."

"What?"

"This." Ban stood up and kissed him again.

"Midou-kun," Akabane was laughing now, "I have to go."

"Okay." Ban released him and when the other man had taken a step back suddenly reached out and grabbed a handful of his coattails. "Hey, Jackal." He pulled Akabane back to him for yet another kiss.

"Midou-kun," his lover mock-scolded. "Don't you have a job to attend to yourself?"

"Antagonizing you is more fun." They both grinned, unable to stop themselves from indulging in one more kiss. "Be good," Ban instructed solemnly when they were done.

Akabane's smile was sweet. "I will." He tweaked Ban's chin. "Don't get defeated by anyone today."

"I won't. Hey, Akabane."

The transporter cast him a semi-stern look. "This had better not be another stalling tactic."

Ban shook his head. "Think you could say 'fuck' again sometime? Your voice is pretty sexy when you swear."

A smidgen of color actually stole into Akabane's face. "Midou-kun!"

Ginji goggled. "Akabane-san cursed?"

Ban smirked. "Like a sailor."

"Don't listen to him, Ginji-kun," Akabane said reproachfully. He rested a hand on Ban's shoulder and leaned in for a parting kiss. "I'll see you later," he murmured to his lover before departing.

"Say it and I squash you," Ban told Ginji when Akabane had exited the coffee shop.

"I don't have to say it," Ginji retorted smugly. "It's right there on your face for the whole world to see." He looked over to where Natsumi was polishing part of the countertop. "Isn't that right, Natsumi-chan?"

The girl looked up from her work and beamed at the both of them. "It's so romantic! Ban-san may not be lucky with money, but at least he's lucky in love!"

"I am not – "

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" Ginji danced around singing as the Get Backers got up to leave. He narrowly avoided a punch from Ban.

"That's enough out of you, twerp. Now," Ban said as they got in the 360 and his voice took on the edge of authority, "let's go uphold our one-hundred-percent success rate and get us back some missing simians!"

--

The job was a bust.

In retrospect, Ban decided it probably hadn't been such a great idea to accept what he'd dubbed in his mind The Case Of The Monkey-Trainer's Missing Minions, but the zoo was offering a fairly decent sum and the keeper who'd approached him and Ginji had also offered to comp their expenses, including fuel and meals. Plus, Ban would have gotten a good deal of future needling material for the next time he and Shido were at odds.

As the current scenario was proving, however, one's eyes tended to be bigger than one's stomach, and Ban was seriously considering laying down a rule to Ginji about never again taking any missions that involved monkeys – or, for that matter, any job concerning animals.

"Ginji! Stop that little bastard!"

The capuchin seemed to glide along the power lines, unconcerned with its pursuers. It paused for a second to sneer down at them, taunting them with a rapid chatter that to Ban sounded like the screeching of castrated demons.

Ginji clambered up the pole, bulldogged intent darkening his face. Like Ban he had his limits, and being shown up by a bunch of precocious monkeys with a talent for escape wasn't on his to-do list. It helped that power lines were of no consequence to him, and as soon as he was within reach he grabbed a handful of wires and let loose a jolt intended to send the rascal leaping down to his partner.

They'd managed, with plenty of difficulty, to capture six monkeys so far. According to the keeper, over a dozen had escaped. It was late in the afternoon, both retrievers were scratched and bitten and hungry, and they'd spent the past hour and a half fighting with this one. Ban reckoned they'd chased the damn thing all over Shinjuku and back, judging by the repeat sightings of streets they'd passed while tracking it in their car.

The capuchin, like the rest of their prey, was no fool. It sprang from its perch just as Ginji fired off his volts, and landed on his head with a frightful scream, clawing and pulling at his hair.

"AAAGGHHHH!! GEDDITOFFGEDDITOFF!"

Ban had anticipated that the miniature shit would attack, and he'd already charged, planning to grab the critter by its tail when it fell and give it a sound thumping into unconsciousness. What he hadn't counted on was the extra weight of a panicked Ginji toppling onto him, and the monkey scurried to freedom once more while Ban made an unwelcome close acquaintance with the asphalt.

"Dammit! He's getting away! After him!" Ban was scrambling out from beneath the dazed mass of retriever and might have gained some lost ground if the seizure hadn't hit him then.

It happened so fast he didn't recognize it in time to slow his pace, and he went crashing into the pavement again, scraping his palms. Vertigo struck him as he tried to right himself, and the best he could do was a feeble hand-to-knee wobble as the images came to him –

_- Akabane is in a hotel, walking calmly through the hall. He's looking for a number, the room that was assigned via the unsigned note he'd received when checking at the front desk for instructions from the client. He comes to a door; this is the one, and he enters without knocking, knowing that the details of his transport will be explained by whatever lies behind it –_

"Ban-chan?"

Dimly he was aware of Ginji's voice coming from somewhere above him. Ban tried to look up and squinted in spite of his glasses. The sun was so _bright,_ and it hurt to look at anything, until a shadow moved in front of him and his partner knelt with a worried frown.

"Ban-chan? What's wrong?"

Ban opened his mouth to say that he was fine, and a gurgling noise came out instead as another wave rolled over him –

_- Akabane finds the suite empty save for the usual trappings. Unconcerned, he moves through the rooms one by one, seeking either presence or evidence to confirm what information he requires to carry out his mission. For all the lack of human activity, somehow there's the feeling that this place has been recently inhabited, but there's nothing to be seen, nothing –_

"Ban-chan!" Ginji put his arm around Ban, helping him to lean against his solid frame for support. "Can you stand?"

By then Ban had realized the seizure for what it was, and dread froze over the insides of his stomach. "Vision," he gasped, staggering heavily against Ginji. "Can't stop it – let me ride it out – "

Brown eyes filled his sight. "Tell me what to do," Ginji said, all thoughts of pursuing the runaway monkey having abandoned his care. He helped Ban over to the curb and they tumbled onto it, Ban shuddering while his inner equilibrium rose and dropped like the swells of a turbulent sea with every surge of the trance.

_- nothing except a gilded mirror in one room, hanging on the wall immediately opposite the doorway, and on this looking glass is a small colored piece of paper taped to it. Curiosity whetted, Akabane steps closer to investigate, brows drawing together in a thoughtful frown when he sees what it is –_

"Breathe, Ban-chan," Ginji said, low and as calm as he could, helping his trembling partner sit up and holding him so he wouldn't fall face-first into the street. "One bit at a time, let it come, it's okay, I've got you –"

- _Akabane brings the photograph closer to his view, and his frown deepens upon seeing its contents; he looks, all at once, confused? angry?..._

…_afraid –_

Pain smashed into Ban, boiling inside his chest. He thought he was having a heart attack, and he started to mouth words, to tell Ginji to call an ambulance because he was dying, but he couldn't speak because anxiety had seized his throat in its jaws and was hell-bent on tearing it out –

- _Akabane looks up quickly, starts to tuck the photograph inside the pocket of his coat, and movement in the mirror catches his attention. He whirls, dropping the picture, scalpels raised to defend himself –_

Vaguely, he was aware of forcing a choked cry from his lips –

_- but the warning comes too late, and from off to the side a tiny flash of silver whizzes through the air and bites into Akabane's neck, and he drops to the floor without uttering a sound, the fabric of his coat billowing around his legs and the hiss of receding scalpels the only noises to mark this ambush…_

Mercifully, the churning cloud abruptly lifted and Ban was back to blinking in real time, swaying from the sudden rush of fresh oxygen. He'd felt like he was suffocating under the vision's weight.

"Ban-chan." Ginji hovered over him, rubbing his shoulders and back to reassure him that the worst of the dreams had passed. "Ban-chan, what was that?" His voice shook a little. "I've never seen you so out of it before. You're white as a sheet!"

Ban tried to get up and found his legs were too rubbery just yet. He stopped trying to hold back the quivering in his body, and his teeth chattered slightly. "Remote viewing. What the elders of Maria's time called telepathy," he explained. "It's a latent premonition that shows up as a dream in the mind's eye, whether you're asleep or awake." He squeezed Ginji's arm, as if to check to be certain the other was still there, still warm flesh and blood and not a mirage. "It's sort of like the bond you and I have, except a hell of a lot more powerful."

As soon as he said it Ban wondered if this was the real reason behind the recent discontent he'd gone through with Akabane. Could it be that all this time he'd been _afraid_ of encouraging – encouraging what? Of what it could mean for the future?

Eerily, a glimpse of his father surfaced. _Bearing the burden of the Serpent is a precious and thankless task, Ban. It's truly a double-edged blade._

His grandmother had warned him. Since the dawn of the first witch, every successor to the line of Aesclepius had been taught the consequences of engaging in such intimacy. Already once Ban had crossed the forbidden line and allowed a bond with Ginji. What did it say about him that he'd all but dared the gods to a spiritual version of chicken in developing an even closer union with Akabane?

He sighed. Well, never let it be said that the great Ban Midou didn't have big brass ones…

"So it's a stronger version of your Jagan," Ginji said now. "But I thought you could control when and how you made your visions."

"Oneiromancy isn't the same thing as the Evil Eye," Ban said, testing his footing and finding it at least solid enough that he wouldn't go down in a heap if he tried standing shortly. "Those are trances I can put people into at will, using elements from a link I've established with their mind."

From the moment when the vision had flattened him, he'd had a feeling that an invisible clock had been set into motion, and as returning clarity cleared out his mental fog he sensed, more and more, that time was ticking away on an ever-increasing slope. "I saw – I saw Akabane."

Ginji let go of him and they got up, though he stayed next to Ban to catch him if he should collapse. "What's wrong with Akabane-san?"

"I don't know." Ban looked to the sky. Already the warm hues of an aging afternoon were tinting the blue sky a deeper shade. He didn't want to give credence to the possibility that Jackal – a man who not only defied death but personified it, a man who found exclusive pleasure in the chaos of a fight – was vulnerable enough to fall.

But should that be so surprising? Everything – everyone – had a weakness. The right chink in the right place at the right time could yield incredible downfall if one knew an enemy well enough, and Ban had spent a lifetime learning what points to press, what weaknesses to exploit. He felt his heart pound faster, though not in bursts like it had during the vision. Akabane possessed inhuman traits – but he was _human_.

"Come on," he said to Ginji, heading for the car and its trailer of jibbering occupants. "We have to find Akabane." Ice was forming in his veins as he flexed his stinging hands, ignoring the discomfort of asphalt-burn. "We have to find him _now_."

--

TBC


	28. The Language Of Love part 4

Title: The Language of Love (ch. 4, pt. 2 – Conclusion)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #4 – "our distance and that person"

Rating: R (violence, language, disturbing war imagery)

Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for both Ban's and Akabane's pasts.

Notes: A companion piece to Crossroads, so it will make more sense if you've read that one.

- Don't worry, Kagami fans. I may love to torment him, but he doesn't die in this. Really.

- Due to the length of this fic, I'm posting it in chapters.  
Disclaimer: I'd love to own GB's wonderful characters, but guess what? I don't. :cries:  
Summary: Call to me, and I will hear you even in the distance…

--

Going by the clues he'd received, Ban directed Ginji to call Paul for information. "Tell him to do a search for hotels in Shinjuku," he said, eyes scanning the quickest route downtown. "We want something your average salary-man would pick. Not fancy, but not roach-coach either."

Several minutes later Paul paged Ginji, who relayed the data to Ban. "There's so many, Ban-chan," he said, eyes darting from the flow of traffic to his partner. "Where do we start?"

Ban shifted into a higher gear to speed past some slowpoke in the next lane. He searched his mind –

-_ gilded mirror, elegant, natural furnishings, maybe a sixteenth-century format –_

"Ask Paul if there's anything with Renaissance decor," Ban said.

Ginji did and they waited. Then, "The Kenshon. Paul says to follow the road we're on now and get off four exits from the next light."

They took the recommended route and wound up on the east side of town. Ban searched the cluster of buildings for the hotel and spotted it further down the street. Ignoring the howls from the caged hairballs trailing them, he whipped the car in fast succession around a semi and two buses to get to the alley directly behind the hotel. A tingling along the back of his neck told him that so far, his intuition was on the right track.

He parked by the dumpster and nodded at Ginji. "Stay here and watch the Bug. I'm going inside, have a quick look around and see what I can find out."

Inside, Ban located the front desk. A brisk inquiry revealed that Akabane had been here earlier, but that he hadn't been seen since. Ban thanked the clerk, then, when his back was turned to assist another customer, took off down a separate corridor. He followed the halls at a steady pace, willing the perceptions to come to him.

There had been a number on the room door. Ban combed his memory –

_- 127 –_

- and took the stairs to the next wing of suites. Door 127 was just ahead, and he felt drawn toward it like it was exerting some kind of magnetic force. Yes. This was it.

He tried the handle. Locked. He knocked next and said, "Housekeeping," pausing to allow for an answer, received none and tried it again, with the same result. Glancing around, Ban checked for wandering guests, saw none, and figured he was safe. One sharp twist of his hand and the lock's mechanism cracked, and he opened the door.

Cautiously he entered the suite, wondering if maybe he shouldn't have brought Ginji along after all, towing risk be damned. If he had another seizure and passed out – Ban shook his head. No point worrying now. He moved in stealth, checking for clues that would tell him what had happened to his lover. Nowhere was there any sign of a struggle. That corresponded with his vision, in which Akabane had been taken by a surprise ambush.

_The mirror._

Pulse quickening, Ban stepped into a familiar setting and recognized it as the same one where Akabane had been. He followed the trail straight to the main room where an ornate mirror hung on the wall. Below it lay a piece of paper, facedown, but that wasn't what initially caught Ban's eye. The large black object on the floor was his focus.

Akabane's hat rested upside down, tilting at a sideways angle as the wide brim's weight pulled the bulk of it off-center. Heedless of possible danger, Ban went to it at once and spotted the photograph. He picked it up and flipped it over.

"_Lieber Gott im Himmel…"_

Depicted in living color was the interior of the Honky Tonk, and standing at the counter was Ban himself, granting a kiss to Akabane while Ginji looked on.

Ban crumpled the picture and stuffed it into his pants pocket. Something gritty scraped the pads of his fingers, and he looked at them in surprise. The skin wasn't broken, but abraded enough to be irritating. When he looked closer the light caught on something glittery, and he sniffed his fingers.

Diamond dust.

His gut began to burn, not with heat but a slow, cold anger. If Aesclepius had ever possessed the markings of a rattler, the snake's tail would surely have vibrated like a nest of bees. Ban grabbed the hat, spun on his heel and stalked from the room. Nothing more could be gained from exploration; he'd found all he needed, and the sensations he was picking up indicated that whoever had been here was long gone from the scene.

He headed for the exit and the second round of visions broadsided him. Gagging, Ban stumbled and landed hard on one knee, fighting the spinning vertigo as it dragged him under –

_- Akabane is lying in a small dark enclosure, on his stomach. He's conscious, but he can't seem to move much – his hands are tightly bound behind his back, and his feet have also been tied. He's also been blindfolded and gagged. But why hasn't he used his primary weapons? His body shakes a little and bounces a bit at repeated intervals; he seems to be trapped in a moving prison – a vehicle –_

- and as swiftly as it had descended the vision vanished from his mind, leaving Ban trembling on his side, curled into a protective position. Gasping, he struggled to his feet, still gripping Akabane's hat in one hand.

Time was running out.

He raced out of there, through the hall and downstairs, out the closest exit he could find. Ginji was standing outside the Ladybug, keeping an eye on the trailer of complaining monkeys, but being arrested for disorderly conduct with apes was the least of Ban's concerns.

"Ginji! Get in the car! Go! Now!"

"Ban-chan?" Ginji saw what Ban was carrying and his eyes widened, the situation's gravity impressing itself on him. They piled into the car and Ban threw the gears into drive in record speed, doubtless leaving several inches of rubber behind when they barreled into traffic.

Dampness dotted his hairline and Ban realized he'd broken into a cold sweat. "I had another vision upstairs. Goddamned bar host has something to do with this, I swear," he told Ginji. "Take a look at this. Fucking assholes were _spying_ on us!" He dug the crinkled picture out of his pocket and shoved it at Ginji, who gulped when he saw it.

"But Ban-chan – if it's them – if Brain Trust kidnapped Akabane-san – "

Natsuhiko's warning echoed almost tauntingly in Ban's ears. "I know, Ginji, I know. We'll find him. I know it. I can feel it." Like some kind of internal hourglass, he could sense the grains they had left slipping away faster and faster.

Ginji studied him worriedly. "What did you see this time?"

"Akabane was tied up. They had to have neutralized his scalpels, somehow, because he could've cut himself free easily. They put rope on him." Ban paused to concentrate on weaving in and out of a string of traffic. "They're taking him somewhere. He was in the trunk of a car."

"Where?"

"I don't know. I'm thinking."

Silence held tersely while Ban drove, racking his mind for ideas. At some point he realized that he wasn't specifically going anywhere, that he was letting the car take him along, and sensed that this, too, was a part of the premonition. It was guiding him in the direction to go.

"Ginji," he said after several minutes. "You still have that ability to track people by their bioelectricity?" Ginji nodded. "See if you can search out Akabane."

"Okay." Ginji shut his eyes and balled up his fists. Sparks sizzled and jumped off of his frame, but went no further than the material of the seat, where they extinguished themselves in short spurts. Hairs prickled on the back of Ban's neck, and he suddenly thought that he'd made a mistake, because something in Ginji's power was calling the viewings down on his head again –

_- the car pulls off the main road and heads down a bumpier route, kicking up dust in its wake. There's a salty tang in the air too, and the acrid taste of rubber mixed with that drifts inside the trunk, tainting the otherwise pleasant mildness of vehicle carpeting interior –_

Horns blared and Ban snapped his head up in time to see an eight-wheel load furiously bearing down on them. Ginji screamed and he yanked the wheel hard, just barely squeaking past the behemoth with the groan of an abused metal bumper. Shuddering, Ban tromped on the gas pedal again and forced a mental vise on the power that threatened to erupt within. Sea breeze. Sand. "They're heading for the bay," he said. "Did you get a fix?"

"Sort of." Ginji's nose screwed up in thought. "We're behind them, but we might catch up if we go nitrous," he added for encouragement, seeing the storm brewing in Ban's eyes.

"She can't handle any more than three minutes, max, on nitrous," Ban said, watching civilization peel by at a blurring rate and dissolving into industrial territory. "Get Paul on the phone again."

Ginji dialed and passed the phone to Ban this time, who balanced it against his ear while steering. "Paul? Marinas, I need a list." He gave their approximate location and waited, heart thudding, for an answer. Time wasn't just flowing past now, it was draining at an alarming rate, sucking away Akabane's chances of survival like quicksand. Paul finally responded, giving Ban the name he needed.

"That's gotta be it. Hang on, Ginji." Even as he spoke Ban swerved off the paved road, mowing a path down the sidewalk, blasting the horn to scatter pedestrians. His mind plotted hairpin curves and twists through the area and he executed them a split-second after they'd come to him. A rumble in his chest, which he realized was laughter, and the demented thought that Gouzou Maguruma wasn't the only one who eschewed brakes, and boy was he going to rub this in Akabane's face if – no, _when_ – he saw him -

- and the damned vision had to hit him now, of all times! –

_- The car slows as it passes a building, and finally crawls to a stop. Doors slam and seconds later the trunk lid pops open, the glare of exposure temporarily blinding out all other sight. Blink. Blink. He's hauled out by his captors and carried further along the pier where Charon's ferry awaits, its whalebone-white exterior highlighted by vehicle headlights. The ship's inhabitants wait expectantly for some confirmation. One of them approaches, and right before the blindfold is tugged back into place across his face he sees the flash of a swinging earring against a white suit –_

"BAN-CHAN!"

Oh God, they were dead, they were dead, and not even Ban could pull on the wheel hard enough to veer away from the brick wall of the building they were about to smash into. Ginji, however, had already reacted, and was even now climbing over Ban, mashing his foot into the brake pedal, lubricating the steering wheel with voltage to force it to turn while also jamming the engine into skidding stillness. The car stopped, neatly as you please, one side tapping the wall with a gentle clink.

"Holy shit," Ban managed to say when he could speak.

"Move over," Ginji ordered. "I'm driving."

"Ginji! You can't drive!"

"Neither can you," his friend pointed out. "Akabane-san's running out of time, Ban-chan."

Ban bit his lip. Ginji was right. "Any repairs are coming out of your half of our next retrieval fee," he warned as they clambered around inside, switching places. Behind them, the captured monkeys had gone silent, and a fast peep out the window proved that they'd been effectively stunned and not expired of fright, yet. "Thank God their fearless leader isn't here, or we'd never hear the end of it," Ban groused under his breath.

They started up with a shudder, Ginji jerking the wheel as he followed Ban's instructions. Incredibly, his lead foot was heavier than Ban's and they tore through the area like a miniature tornado, goods and people flapping wildly in their path.

Ban tried to recall the last detail he'd viewed. He was certain that that bastard Kagami was involved. In a fight, he and Akabane seemed to be evenly matched, according to sources. But Akabane was bereft of defense for the time being, and there was no reason to believe that Kagami labored under the same restrictions.

"I don't get it," he said aloud.

Ginji tried to downshift for another turn, couldn't quite get there, and they teetered on the edge of a precarious curb before the Ladybug got its bearings back and scooted down the alley. "Don't get what?"

"The bar host. Kagami. Why would he go to all this trouble to mess with Akabane outside of Mugenjou?" On seeing Ginji's puzzled look, Ban elaborated. "What I mean is, if Brain Trust wants to get at me, why would they go after someone who by all reports has no established loyalties and a severe tendency towards excessive lethal force? Why not you, or Himiko? Especially since she's one of the Voodoo Children that they want so badly."

Ginji barreled through a stack of wooden crates before coming up with an answer. "Makubex or Masaki could probably explain it," he said. "But I bet they fixed the Archive to give them all the probabilities they needed."

"Their super-computer?"

"When I was in Volts I learned real fast that the quickest way to win a fight was to go after the people others cared about," Ginji said, remorse darkening his tone. "Whether it was patrolling against Beltliners, or taking over rival gangs, it always made the holdouts give in eventually. People can take a whole lot of abuse before they snap, Ban-chan, but they'll break easier if you target what's most important to them first."

He paused to allow Ban to give him the next set of directions, and to follow through with them. "Something tells me that Kagami's an expert at this. I didn't like the way he was looking at us when we met him and Kagenuma-san at the entrance to Babylon City. He strikes me as just the type of person who'd be cruel enough to destroy somebody slowly that way."

Ban thought of Natsuhiko. _Enemy,_ his old childhood friend had said, not _enemies,_ plural. He'd spoken of Brain Trust, but more so in reference than a singling out.

_There are those who have a window on you, and they're planning to make their move._ What was a window but another form of glass – and what else was glass if not the very man himself?

"Son of a bitch," Ban whispered, the beginnings of an honest fright wrenching his intestines into a solid painful ball. "He knew. Natsuhiko saw it coming the whole time and he tried to warn me, _only_ _I was too fucking stupid not to see it!"_ He roared a series of multilingual curses blasphemous enough to make every clergy from here to the moon quail in mortal outrage, tearing at and kicking the interior surfaces –

- and somewhere between _there_ and _elsewhere_ he joined with the viewing again, and it wasn't Ginji's panicked face _begging him to stop, stop, it's someone else's, heartless in its porcelain beauty as its condescending smoothness welcomes him to the final transport. _

_Ah, but this is easily remedied. He flexes his fingers and wills forth the scalpel. _

_Nothing happens for a few moments. He frowns, tries again, and this time instead of the shift-and-click he's used to feeling a peculiar sensation causes his hand to spasm painfully. It's as if there's no blood at all to offer, and further attempts only make the problem worse. When he finally is able to call forth a knife, it exits his palm in a gooey misshapen form, his fingers unable to grasp its dull edges. It plops to the deck with a hollow sound._

_Not good._

_He twists his head around – the blindfold has been removed, though his other restraints remain - to see the deformed scalpel. It looks like nothing that could accurately be called a blade, more like something that could be used as a tongue depressor or bizarre art design. _

"_Having trouble with our knives, are we?"_

_His eyes narrow, awaiting further explanation._

"_Our people in the City took great pains to create a formula that would render your specialty temporarily useless. Being that your weapons are blood-based, we couldn't take any chances." There's a delicate chuckle from the mirror-master. "You should feel flattered, doctor, that we considered you a grave enough threat to employ such precautionary measures."_

_If he's unnerved by the promise of death in the gaze turned upon him Kagami chooses not to show it. "Oh, the drug will wear off in good time, I assure you." He shrugs. "That can't be helped, I'm afraid. But rest assured we have also taken that factor into account. I'm sure you know as well as I that the Brain Trust doesn't like to leave too much to chance."_

_The sullen rebuke of a Bloody Cross echoes in his head, but as he's presently incapable of igniting the power, it remains an impotent weapon._

_Kagami reaches out, brushing a lock of black hair aside, amused by the flinch of revulsion his touch generates. "Your history is really quite fascinating, doctor. Old souls…small wonder you seem so weary of our sphere and seek your existence in the flesh and blood of this one. I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised that you turned out to be the catalyst we needed. A courier for our Shaman Queen, a Kusanagi for the Witch King. I must say I'm impressed." Kagami smiles then, a flash of something resembling true respect, before it vanishes just as quickly. _

_The smile replacing it is diamond, and so is the voice, deadly sharp in its vengeance. "At least, I would have been, if you hadn't rejected my offer." He lifts up a section of his golden hair and puts his fingers to his ear, where the shiny orb dangles. He detaches the large piece of the cuff that covers the side of it. A dark scar twists along the ruined cartilage like a venomous snake before flattening into the top half of a letter – J. _

_The earpiece is reattached. "I suppose I ought to thank you and the Professor for the _mercy_ of permitting me access to your research. The technicians are still trying to find a way to undo the effects of Lady Poison's chemical." The smile has disappeared, and left behind is the undiluted essence of the lord of the looking glass: jagged edges hungering for blood. Kagami motions to his underlings. They're struggling with a heavy lead of chain. _

"_You've more lives than the proverbial cat's, Doctor Jackal. This time, we'll fix it so you can't come back." _

_He fights them as he's strapped down by the chain; he won't allow it, won't let the bastards have the satisfaction of killing him this easily, but the glint of gold fills his vision again and that person is forcing him down with a strong arm, crooning reassurance that it's okay, it's over, Ban-chan, _it's over, you're coming out of it now, so please stay with me, don't go under again, okay Ban-chan? Okay?"

Ban rolled in his seat and stuck his head out the window, vomiting up bile. Bits of pinkish foam speckled his lips when he wiped away the last of the purge, and he started shivering uncontrollably when he flopped back against the restraint of the seatbelt Ginji had somehow had the presence of mind to wind around him. He ached with a soreness that cut every muscle in his body from head to toe.

His tongue managed to fumble with the intricacies of speech, and he discovered that in the course of the vision he'd bitten it. "What…what happened?" They'd traveled farther than he'd thought, for he could see the stretch of water waving beyond a section of industrial complexes.

Ginji was shaking like a leaf in the driver's seat. He downshifted, slowing the speed in order to give both the road and Ban his attention. "You were gone bad, Ban-chan," he said, voice wobbling almost on the verge of tears. "Isn't there any way to control these things when they come to you?"

He looked at Ginji and in the flicker of passing streetlights realized with shock what he'd done. Ginji's clothes were rumpled and torn, and there were bleeding scratches on his face and arms. "I didn't want you to get hurt trying to escape the car," his partner explained.

"I was that bad, huh?" Ban grasped his thighs, digging his fingernails into the cloth of his pants to try to regain focus. "God, Ginji, I'm losing it here. I don't know if I can take another of these things." It was a miracle that they were still intact, still speeding along the path. He gagged on the thought of what could have happened if the vision had lasted any longer.

"I know, Ban-chan. We're almost there," Ginji promised. "See, there's the place you were talking about. In your dream," he clarified when Ban gave him a confused look, and pointed at the upcoming horizon. At the water's edge, the marina lay flattened against the landscape like some kind of reptilian labyrinth.

"That's it, all right," Ban said grimly, feeling the pit in his gut deepen. "Floor it."

Ginji hit the speed and the car flew along the road, bouncing over the bumps with a hideous groan of shocks. The rough path eased, then segued into a smoother stretch of pavement that led straight towards the main building. Ginji angled the car right for the nearest entrance, which wasn't quite large enough to accommodate the Ladybug, but for once Ban wasn't about to tell him otherwise.

"Yikes! Ban-chan, they've got guns!"

"Down!" Ban yanked off both their seatbelts and pulled Ginji low in time to avoid an initial burst of gunfire from the guards that had emerged to see who was approaching. When they realized the vehicle had no intention of stopping they dove for safety, shouting angry epithets in their panic. The car plunged through the entry door, taking with it almost the entire frame and a goodly portion of wall as well.

"We made it!" Ginji circled a set of storage lifts in an attempt to evade the next wave of guards rushing to investigate the damage they'd done. "Now what, Ban-chan?"

"Get us out of here!" Obligingly, Ginji stomped the gas pedal and the Subaru rocketed backwards, mowing down a counter and several display cases. The trailer hitch was torn off as well, and monkeys screamed and scattered in an avalanche for freedom through the broken bars of their prison. Ginji yelped and shifted and the car screamed burnt rubber as it plowed back the way they'd entered.

They found themselves playing tag with the reinforcements, who were arriving in several black cars that promptly joined the chase. Ban had to hand it to his partner. Ginji couldn't shift worth a damn, but he had a knack for street racing that even Ban could admire. By the greatest of good luck, they managed to keep their pursuers at arm's length, weaving around the slips, while Ban tried to scout for possible clues as to Akabane's whereabouts.

"Come on, come on!" he hissed, trying to dredge the visions back to him again. He needed something, anything, that would tell him where to go.

Gunfire clattered again and the Get Backers had to swerve, almost into the bay, to avoid the hailstorm. An awful grinding noise made Ban swear, and he hoped that Ginji hadn't completely stripped the gears with that last maneuver.

"Ban-chaaaan," Ginji whined, looking to the rearview mirror.

"I see, I see!" He _did_ see – the yacht that was larger than most of the other boats moored here. "Ginji! Down at the far end there, go, go!" Ban half-stuck his head out the window and narrowly took the next section of gunfire; he dove for the floor of the car swearing that the last bullet had passed right beneath his nose, so strong was the stench of hot lead.

"Ban-chan!"

"Let them get closer!" At Ginji's disbelieving glare, Ban elaborated. "I'll hit them with a Jagan!"

Squeaking all the while, Ginji allowed their speed to drop down enough for the other cars to catch up. Ban watched, timing their approach so he could catch the leader unaware. "Closer!" he ordered, a vague blip of thought that he was as pale as Ginji winking through his mind. If this wasn't playing dice, he didn't know what it would qualify as.

Ginji whimpered and tapped the brakes. He had cars starting to surround him on either side, and the guards had itchy trigger-fingers…!

Ban shot up from the seat, waving his arms in a show of surrender. As he did the car he'd been waiting for pulled up ahead of them, squeezing past the Subaru and inching in front of it to force Ginji to press the brake harder.

Ban leaned down. "Think you can handle the nitrous?"

Ginji gulped. "What're you going to do?"

"They'll follow that one car. When he backs off, you trip that gauge and hold on tight!"

Ban looked out the windshield. The head car was so close that their bumper was kissing the 360's, but he had what he wanted. He stared hard at the other car's rearview mirror and sure enough, the driver looked up – straight into a pair of bright blue eyes.

Almost immediately the vehicle sped up and shifted to the side, as if granting its prey enough room to maneuver to a stop. The other cars followed suit just as Ban had predicted, thinking that the Get Backers' car had initiated surrender. Far from it – both Ban and Ginji reached for the nitrous fuel lever – _bam!_ – and they were _flying_ down the trail while Ginji frantically tried to keep the steering wheel pointed to where Ban wanted them to go.

"_Ban-chan!"_

"_Hang on!"_

They could have skipped like a big stone across the water from slip to slip; the velocity was such that they probably would have bounced over each gap instead of crashing into it. But Ginji was driving and not Ban, and so it was all they could do just to stay on level ground – if they had hit water, that was it, endgame over.

Blurring into sight, the ship that Ban wanted appeared, and he punched the nitrous lever again to power the alternate system down to a more manageable level. "Here, here! That one," he pointed, and Ginji hit the brakes, throwing him against the windshield hard enough to knock the breath from his chest.

Ignoring the disheartening _PING!_ of groaning metal from their stop, Ban struggled his way out of the car and raced toward the boat. As yachts went it wasn't terribly spectacular, but it was large enough that it didn't quite fit in with the rest of the vessels. This had to be it, he thought, racking his mind for details from the last vision.

Ginji was right behind him. "Up there, Ban-chan! A ladder!"

He charged for the side of the pier, but before Ban could warn him the last and worst of the visions came smashing down. The water was _dark, and cold, and as such proves to be impossible to navigate its depths with any degree of accuracy. Chains, ropes and thick manacles, all the perfect restraints for a condemned man. He needs a blade to saw through them, or some way of picking the locks. How thoughtless of his assailants not to have tossed in the key as well._

_Back to square one with the knife, then. But how to form a single scalpel when his bloodstream is unable to produce even a dull facsimile of one? His regenerative powers are taxed from purging the drug he was given...waves of darkness are circling his senses, the mesmeric pull of these sharks trying to pull him under. No sharp edges anywhere; the bottom is all sand._

_Sand…when properly treated and applied, can be as sharp as any blade..!_

_Impossible. Even if he were able to introduce the material into his blood, there isn't enough time to process it into a workable knife. Already spots are flaring behind his eyes: air's almost gone._

_If he gives up, he will never see Midou-kun again…never know once more the pleasure of sparring with him, making love with him, being _alive_ with him, and ending it here, trussed like a turkey, is such a pointless and _stupid_ way to die._

_Surely Doctor Jackal has not come so far, nor fought so hard, as to be rendered a pathetic notch on an inferior opponent's scorecard._

_Midou-kun…_

_Wriggle hands free of gloves. Claw at one palm with fingernails. Blood bubbles forth; squirm backwards, down, scoop up the grains. Tight now, hold tight, mix them with life's essence, until consummation completes. There, a form is shaped. Not the best of scalpels, but it will have to do._

_Now, then. Force the blade through the chains, mindful of the wrists. Saw, saw, saw. Focus. Bubbles_ _sputtering on the surface of the rippling waters above, an indistinct face watching, watching him sink? even as something's snaking toward him, hands now, hands _on his arms, around his torso, pulling him up, up, up, and Ban coughed and spluttered and gasped for breath at water's break, stumbling onto the shoreline with Ginji

"Ban-chan! Ban-chan! Are you all right?!"

"Ginji," he croaked, the shock of the cold water coupled with the cool night air hitting his skin in pelting droves. His teeth knocked against each other as he rolled over onto his back and then his side, trying to reorient himself after the vision.

"You fell in the water, Ban-chan! You just went over the side, like that!" Ginji snapped his fingers. He was wet too, clothes and skin soaked, but from pulling his friend out of the water rather than self-immersion.

"The boat," Ban coughed, scrambling to his hands and knees, using Ginji as support while he struggled to stand. "Akabane – the boat – Ginji – "

A series of thunderclaps made them jump, and they spun around to see the area they'd come from ablaze. The guard cars had crashed into each other when the lead vehicle had suddenly swerved to block the others, and a flaming pileup was fast forming. "What did you make that guy see?" Ginji gasped.

Not bothering to answer Ban took off, heading back to the yacht but stopping on the pier, looking around. A hunch told him that this was the area he should be in, but not exactly the place to look. He snarled, raking a hand through his wet and drooping hair. "But _where,_ dammit!?"

_Details, Ban! The devil is in the details,_ his grandmother's sharp voice reminded him abruptly.

He was missing something. Something was out of place. "Find it, goddammit!" Ban muttered, and a different version of the saying the old woman had liked to throw at him came to mind: God was in the details too.

A low, breathy voice tickled his ear. _"Midou-kun."_ Ban whirled, half-expecting Akabane to be smiling right behind him in that sneaky-cat way of his, scalpels glinting in one hand while the other tipped his hat in greeting, but nothing was there. He spat a ripe curse and turned back to the yacht –

- and saw that the anchor chain was stretching out, well past where it ought to be had the ship simply dropped it in place. His gaze followed the length of line, across the gulf of water, to where it disappeared beneath at the far end of the opposite pier.

Ban raised his head like a hound scenting the fox. The chill of the night breeze whispered deadliness in his ear, and he heard the words softly enunciated with precise cruelty in a new voice as he answered the calling in his heart.

_Misere__re Domine. Canis mortuus est._

_Lord have mercy. The dog is dead._

Bone-numbing horror seared a hole through his chest. _"NO!"_ His bellow tore over the lapping waves but Ban wasn't there to hear it echo – he dove headfirst into the water, heedless now of the cold, not caring about anything –

_Oh God please!_

- anything except that man, that infuriating, insufferable, dangerous and intriguing smiler of knives, the one everybody called jackal –

_Arms churning, kick, so cold__, damn you, faster, move!_

- the one most of them feared and loathed, but not him, not Ban Midou, even though he knew the risks –

_Kick, pull, trace the chain -_

- Akabane's smile sparking a peculiar warmth in his chest, that smile meant especially for him, those cool lavender eyes warming to a deeper hue because they were both in on the secret –

- even though he was familiar with the other's style of macabre dance time and again from hard youthful experience, seen the blood up close and personal for far more lifetimes than he could ever hope to live –

- that soft, mischievous chuckle rippling in his ears for days, the subtle purr of delight whenever they ran into each other unexpectedly, _my, my, Midou-kun,_ such prim and proper manners even in the coarsest of situations -

- for temptation had felled him, he'd bitten that sweetly poisoned fruit because he'd _wanted_ to taste his own medicine even as he'd offered it, because he'd felt that same kinship of the hunter in their shared need, their combined loneliness as cursed children –

- that hat, that black hat, that stupid goddamned wonderful big black hat and those perfect white gloves and that long black coat and wild dark hair and smooth cool voice, scars and skin and tattoos -

- _I never even told the crazy bastard just once how I felt about him_ -

His fingers rammed something solid and stars of pain danced behind his eyelids. Ban reached for it, grasping, feeling his way around – a post, and dimly flickering dots of light overhead that he recognized as lamps from the piers and boats nearby, and –

_Akabane!_

He was tied to the bottom end of the pier by the anchor's chain, a cloud of black floating like ink in the currents. Ban searched through the mass of billowing clothing, found the ends of the restraints tethering him, and tried to tear them loose. Some of the ropes had already been slackened by Akabane's efforts. The rest gave a little but didn't break; they'd been smart enough to use quality stuff. The chains wouldn't budge. Ban's arm muscles stretched viciously as he tried to break them.

Akabane's body was limp. His head bobbed to one side, and Ban saw that he'd been gagged in addition to being bound. Kagami had made damn sure there wouldn't be anything _interesting_ to observe for this deathwatch. White-hot fury boiled in his heart, fresh and purifying and all the more vibrant because it wasn't just his rage, it was the vengeance of Aesclepius surfacing to renew his will.

Gritting his teeth, Ban wrapped both hands around the chains surrounding Akabane.

_Now at thy right hand, hear my summons. Aesclepius, Serpent-Bearer on high, I embody thee in thy descent from the heavens, until this cursed fate is spent. _

Serpent's fire thundered in his blood. He braced his feet against the post.

_I invoke thee. Feed now, with your fangs of venom!_

Ban gripped the bindings and _pulled._ Wood cracked and splintered; ropes split, chains snapped into pieces. The post buckled as if made of the same sand it was mired in and above, the tops of several boards from the pier itself splashed into the water, ripped asunder by the sheer force. Ban dragged Akabane free and tore away the rags from his face, pressing his mouth to his lover's to serve as a source of air while he pushed against the bottom muck to propel them upward.

With one hand he clutched at the water, straining out, clawing down; with the other hand he kept Akabane pressed to him, fingers fisted in his hair, their lips taut against each other. Ban swore he felt a flutter of residual warmth, of life, could even now hear that gentle murmur in his mind -

_- I can't die without at least having told you just once what I feel for you, Midou-kun –_

_- _but Akabane was so still, heavy and awkward in his grasp in spite of his thin build and surely it had to be the coat weighing them down, because swimming felt like trying to climb through molasses. Damn thing was so long and trailing it had to have soaked up water like a sponge, but he didn't dare stop to rid them of it because they were long out of time, and more than that, Akabane would be disappointed to learn of its loss. He already thought that his hat was a casualty. Ban would take great pleasure in presenting him with its safe presence, would happily let him wear it for the rest of his life from here on out, to bed, in the shower, wherever. As long as that hat stayed in his line of sight that meant his Jackal would always be there in his den and in his heart, where he belonged…

Light was growing brighter and then his hand was floundering in air. They popped through the surface, Ban sucking in deep gasps of oxygen that stung his burning lungs. He fumbled, managing to hold Akabane's head above water. His muscles ached and the adrenaline was receding in the wake of the serpent patron's absence, but he mustered his remaining efforts at towing his lover to safety.

He heard Ginji hollering for him. "Over here," Ban called, but his voice was so hoarse it came out as more of a raspy grunt. He spat out water and tried again, and to his relief his next cry was stronger. "Ginji! Here!"

Whether by virtue of the fact that sound traveled further across water, or plain dumb luck, Ginji heard him this time, his sneakers rattling the boards of the pier as he came running. "Ban-chan!"

"Watch the end of the pier!" His warning almost came too late; Ginji barreled right for the ruined edge as soon as he spotted them. The leaning end of it cracked sharply from the weight and he had to dance clumsily backwards to the sides to avoid toppling into the water. Back on more solid support, he got down on hands and knees and reached out, trying to grab hold of Ban.

"Take him!" Ban shoved the unconscious Akabane at Ginji, who managed with some difficulty to haul him up out of the water and halfway onto the pier. Ban tried to pull himself out and one hand slipped, sending his forearm skidding down one of the pilings. He was too numbed by the cold to feel it, but in the back of his mind he registered that he'd have a nasty scrape there by tomorrow.

"I've got you, Ban-chan!" Ginji had to drag him almost entirely, for he had no footing below and what little strength he had was sapped by the adrenaline rush of summoning Aesclepius, and his time spent in the frigid waters. Ban crawled the last bit of the way and pulled the lower half of Akabane's body completely onto the pier.

"Ban-chan – "

Ban fought the urge to roll over and succumb to the tremors that instantly descended upon him. He scooped Akabane partially into his arms. His lover's face was a nearly transparent whitish-blue, so pale were his thin features. He couldn't be –

"He's still alive, Ban-chan," Ginji said, uncannily echoing his thoughts. "He's gotta be. Akabane-san said he won't die. Right?"

So many things were rushing through Ban's head at that moment, things he wanted to say to Ginji but couldn't, because trying to explain them all at once would be impossible. Drowning was a different kind of death as opposed to taking a blade across the back, super-healing or no. Those bastards knew their history and had chosen the punishment well. _Behold the fate of all witches and those who shelter them._ What was it the bar host had said? _Kusanagi. _The sword of the snake…

Ban pressed his ear to Akabane's chest. He couldn't hear anything. He felt around for a pulse, and couldn't find any trace of the familiar throb of blood. "Akabane!" Dear God, how long had he been submerged in that water? A few minutes? Longer? If the water was as cold as it had felt to Ban, maybe Jackal still had a chance -

He laid the man back down and leaned over him, tearing open his coat, his shirt. Carefully, he tilted Akabane's head back and pushed two fingers beneath his jaw while using the fingers of his other hand to pinch his nostrils shut, and trapped his mouth over the other's as he attempted resuscitation.

He'd seen it before. Akabane's curiously protective deference. The disposal of the government stooges threatening them after the recovery of IL. Small, almost casual comments during Mugenjou outings and the Venus mission, after Ginji or Ban had been abducted or attacked. An almost brotherly, even paternal, consideration whenever Himiko was in his presence, one reason why Ban had never worried about her working as a transporter along Akabane's side.

_I would like to conclude our fight, but it appears that Himiko-san has other plans._

_Ginji-kun is an important person I want to fight. I hope he is safe._

_Please don't get defeated by Miroku-kun, Midou-kun._

This had been Jackal's way of expressing his hunger for future battles, Ban knew, especially the Venus job when he'd extracted a promise from Ban to meet with him on the island for a one-on-one match. Was it possible that such comments had had an even deeper meaning than the one he'd initially attributed to them? Especially that last one, when Akabane had also given him a fresh pack of cigarettes and wished him a speedy recovery from the sword-wound Natsuhiko had dealt him…

_I was seduced briefly by Ginji-kun's attractive powers, but I never lost interest in you. _

Like attracts like; equals recognize equals and some bonds transcend all reason and logic, crossing realms that remain unnoticed by most mortals, but binding in the complex arcane laws that govern them. The entities of Serpent and Jackal were no different in this respect.

Ban timed his applications. Press in repetitions of thirty, arms straight, pinch the nose shut and blow twice. Wait. More pressing of the sternum, another pinch, another breath. Nothing. Emotions stripped bare brought a surge of panic he was hard-pressed to keep from dominating him. _"Goddamn you, Jackal, don't you dare die on me!"_

Behind him Ginji started fumbling in his vest pockets for his phone. "Ambulance. I'll call an ambulance," he sputtered, before realizing that the device must have fallen out somewhere during the earlier chaos. He looked up in the direction of the Get Backers' car, then at Ban, torn as to what he should do. A thought sparked in his mind then, that being too cold was dangerous, and he remembered the supply kit Ban always insisted on keeping in the Bug's trunk. "I'll get blankets, Ban-chan! Keep trying!" he shouted over his shoulder as he took off running down the pier.

Ban was too focused to pay him any mind, his entire world centered on Akabane. This wasn't working. He tried again, knowing he was risking worse damage by forcing the issue but too scared to leave off and let his lover die. "Akabane, _please!_" he croaked, and the terror that was lurking beneath the surface finally cracked through in his voice. Had there ever been a time when he'd experienced this kind of fear for anyone other than Ginji? And he could count on one hand the number of times he'd been truly worried about his partner's safety since the Get Backers had formed…

He struggled to remember his lessons. Defibrillator – would it work, even now? "Ginji!" Ban screamed, but he needn't have bothered. Ginji returned flying out of nowhere, a beacon of hope that Ban clung to as stubbornly as a leech, and he didn't even have to tell him what he needed because Ginji knew just enough first aid to understand how dire the situation was. His hands bracketed Akabane's chest, and at Ban's direction he pumped a series of electrical waves into him.

They waited, breaths mingling in harsh rhythm. "Come on, Jackal, I know you can't resist a good Raitei charge," Ban muttered. "Wake up and I promise I'll give you a good time!"

"Akabane-san? He means it," Ginji half-murmured. "I'll fight with you, but you have to come back to us now. It's time to stop playing games…"

At that Ban looked up and the demand he'd been about to growl halted on his lips. Ginji was staring at Akabane with a peculiar frown, as if deciding that this was all a practical joke carried too far. He reached down and smoothed a wet clump of dark hair out of the transporter's too-pale face.

"Believe in him, Ban-chan."

"What?"

"Believe in him," Ginji repeated. He looked up at Ban with an eerie calm. "Akabane-san said he never thinks about his own death. He said that means he won't die. So if you trust in him, you have to believe he'll come back to you." He said this with the simplicity of a child to a parent – or was it the other way around…?

Ban gaped at him. "Are you out of your mind?! Those sons of bitches tied him to the goddamn pier with a chain – "

Ginji grabbed his shoulders. "Akabane-san's strong, Ban-chan! He'd never let anybody trap him like that!"

Ban knocked him away with a vicious punch. "How do you know!?"

"_I just do!_" Ginji's eyes crackled with a light that Ban wasn't sure belonged to him or to Raitei. "I can't explain it. But I know that Akabane-san's not dead. I can feel it. Just trust in him, Ban-chan! Believe that he'll find his way back to you and he will."

Ban shook his head; the world was turning upside down and inside out and he couldn't make sense of it any more. "Ginji, for Christ's sake, death doesn't work like that! Those fucking bastards drowned him!" He knew the wet rolling down his face now wasn't all from his swim, but he didn't care anymore. "That's what those visions were about. He was trying to tell me he was in danger – "

He bowled over then, unable to finish his sentence. If only. Those two cursed words. If only. If only they'd gotten here in time. Ban grabbed Akabane's limp body and squeezed him tightly, mashing his face in the tangled strands of his wet hair. The one thing he couldn't retrieve -

A muted clearing of throat. Ginji wasn't done. "You care for him, and I know he cares back even if you guys never say so," he pressed. "The language of love has its own rules, Ban-chan. Tell him with your heart, and he'll hear you, I swear."

Before, Ban would have scoffed – would have _mocked_ his partner's apparent naiveté. But experience had taught him that Ginji was capable of the most incredible observations in rare moments, and so he wasn't entirely able to dismiss those cryptic words. Yet he found it all but impossible to grasp that they could contain truth. Perhaps it was the eternal curse of the skeptic: it wasn't that he disbelieved the concept of what Ginji was trying to convey to him; it was that he _couldn't _find any way to generate that kind of absolute faith.

_Kuroudo Akabane, if you _can_ hear this…hear _me_…I'd give anything to have you back. _Anything._ I want you to live for me, stay with me, forever. We've come too far for it to end like this. Serpent and Jackal, doesn't matter how crazy it is but we belong together, I know we do. I know you feel it too…_

He buried his face in the hollow of Akabane's icy neck. "Please, Kuroudo," he whispered. "Please come back to me. _Du hast mein herz gestohlen. _No, I let you. I gave it to you, blood and beat, soul and life, and you gave me yours in return without my even asking…"

The cold, limp form in his arms offered no reply, and Ban sank to the pier along with it, still holding tight to his lover's body. Ginji joined them, planting his arms around both Ban and Akabane in a solid embrace, intending nothing more than what comfort he could give, perhaps knowing that there was nothing more he – either of them - could do.

Ban was grateful that he didn't try to pull him away. At that moment he probably would have snapped the neck of anyone who tried to separate the couple. _If only_ retrieval agents really could beat death at its own cruel game…!

Something shuddered beneath them, hard enough to shock both Ban and Ginji into sudden awareness. They lifted their heads, caught sight of each other's bewildered expressions, and –

"What the hell?"

"Eek! Ban-chan, move! Move!"

Akabane roiled underneath, quivering in a full-body earthquake. His eyes were wide open, turning back in their sockets, and he flop-rolled over and heaved up what looked like an endless river of seawater, his thin form racked by the uncontrollable shivering.

"Urk!" Ginji never had been able to hold his cookies if he happened to be around someone who was vomiting. Ban whirled from his sick partner to his even sicker lover, and saw Akabane throw up another mass of inhaled water. Thanksgiving washed through him in a dizzying spiral, and a sudden surprising blast of hot rage took its place.

"You _bastard._ You fucking shitty psychotic son of a syphillictic BITCH!" In between heaves and coughs, Akabane tried to turn over to look at him, and when he'd half-raised his upper torso Ban punched him soundly in the face. The blow glanced off the side of a pale cheekbone and flattened Akabane onto the pier.

"Mi – dou-k-kun – you're alive - had to – had to - to do it…for you –" The transporter rasped, his voice barely audible, and he choked and gagged on another purge.

Ban slammed his fists into Akabane's back, pummeling him. "Don't you EVER fucking do that again, you hear me!? I've bonded with you now! I'll kill you with my own two hands if you die on me! Goddamn you, you scared the everliving shit out of me!" The first part of Akabane's words registered then, and he stopped beating on him to stare. "What was that?"

Akabane struggled, clutching for purchase like a half-crushed insect. "You're alive," he gasped, and the words were colored with an unmistakable relief.

Ban clenched his fists, breathing hard, watching him. "Why wouldn't I be?" Then he remembered – the diamond dust, on the photograph he'd found. Son of a bitch, indeed.

"It was Kagami, wasn't it?" The name hung in the air like a poisonous fume.

Akabane curled into a wretched ball, shaking as he managed to crawl to Ban. "I was afraid he'd get to you before I could," the other whispered. "He wanted – he had this piece of sharpened glass. He said he'd make jewels from your eyes." Something like a ragged sob echoed in his throat as he lifted a trembling bare hand to touch Ban's face with reverence. "Your beautiful _eyes,_ Midou-kun…"

Ban joined him in the shudders. He could handle any threat of bodily harm to life and limb – except one to his eyes, no matter how abstract it might be. Cursed though they were, they _belonged _to him, dammit.

"I had to stay alive," Akabane coughed out. "I wanted to – to – "

"To protect me?" Ban finished on a quieter note. They looked at each other. "Because of…because of what?"

"I could feel something...something different than before, when we could sense each other's blood-scent." Akabane blinked. "The entire time I was being ferried by my captors – I knew you were with me somehow. I knew you would follow that trail." His shoulders curved inward as he hugged himself in a vain attempt to ward off the chill, his soaked hair hanging in dripping ropes over his white face. "Is that why you came for me?"

Ban looked into those softened purple eyes and saw his own care, his own worry and gratitude and fear and anger and _realization_ crystallizing in them. He pulled the shaking Akabane into his arms, in a gentler embrace than before. "Yes," he whispered, as truth blossomed in his heart.

Akabane clung to him, thin but strong arms lashing tightly around him. He buried his face against Ban's. "I don't want you to die. I want you to stay, and keep me as yours. And I want you to be mine."

"I won't. I'll be here. I swear it."

"Forever, Midou-kun."

"Always, Kuroudo-_liebe_."

Akabane gave a little start. "Oh…"

"What?" The embrace slackened as Ban gave him a curious look.

Akabane favored him with a tender smile. "That's the first time you've ever called me by my given name."

"Oh."

"Say it again? Please? I like to hear you speak it."

Ban rolled his eyes. "Save the romantic musings for another time. I'm freezing my ass off here, Kuroudo!"

Akabane laughed softly, and nuzzled Ban's nose. "Then let us sit and freeze together. I can think of nowhere else I'd rather be than with you, in heaven or hell, chances regardless."

"Hn." Ban couldn't feel his fingers – or most any other body part, for that matter - any more, but he decided it didn't matter. He had back what was most important to him and that was all he cared about for the time being. "Oi, Ginji?" When he didn't hear an answer he looked up. "Guess the eel went to finish puking his guts out. He was here a minute ago."

Akabane stirred. "Ginji-kun is sick?"

"As a dog," Ban said. "That boy's got a cast-iron stomach when it comes to most foods, but set him in front of somebody that's losing their lunch and he'll follow suit in an instant." They chuckled at that.

"Poor Ginji-kun," Akabane said. "Maybe he went to your car to rest, then. Or to fetch us reinforcements…"

Ban made a face. "Aw, shit. You have any idea how long we'll be waiting for him to get back if that's the case?"

Remembering how he and the directionally-challenged Lightning Emperor had fumbled through maze after maze during the search for the IL, Akabane sighed. "This is true. However…" His face brightened. "It will give us plenty of time to warm up. Hmm?" he asked, eyes twinkling mischievously.

Ban had to laugh, ignoring the clattering of his own teeth from the frigid dip he'd taken. "Only you could turn an innocent phrase into something that sounds vaguely dirty."

They grinned at each other and kissed. Akabane sighed contentedly. "Midou-kun."

"Huh. How long have we been together?" At Akabane's inquiring look, Ban smiled at him. "Under the circumstances, I think you have more than enough license to use my first name now."

Akabane's eyes lit with delight. "Would you enjoy that, Midou Ban-kun?"

"Just 'Ban' will do. It's not a question of me enjoying it, it's more like would it be something that _you'd_ enjoy."

A flare of lavender claimed his line of sight and then they were kissing again, a press of surprisingly warm lips that communicated all that needed to be said between them in that moment. Ban felt _understanding _flood his insides with its almost painful, pleasurable expansion of heat again, and when the kiss ended he was looking into the heart of the man he knew without a doubt he'd claimed completely...and who in turn had done him the same.

The words streamed out in a gentle exhalation. "Very much…Ban."

Ban gave him another smile and flicked his nose. "Kuroudo," he said again, just to see the thrill exhibited when he used that particular name.

Akabane made a happy little noise and snuggled against him, hugging Ban firmly. After a moment he said, "You said that we are bonded now. What does that mean?"

"Mostly it's a witching ritual." Ban stroked the damp black hair. "But spirit-bonds can form without being induced. It means that we're attuned to one another on a level of sense that ordinary people aren't aware of. I can feel your presence, and you'll always know mine, no matter where or how far apart we are."

He shivered and pressed closer to Akabane. "Ginji and I already have something like this, and now, you and I do too. That's how I was able to find you." He paused, then added, "It's practically a living thing in itself. In time, it could grow into a shared consciousness so powerful that breaking it would be unthinkable for either of us. Not just unthinkable – impossible." Ban looked away for a second. "Witches have perished by forced separation from their mates," he finally finished.

"A true death, then," Akabane mused, and smiled. "I am honoured that you would choose me for your soul-mate."

Maybe, Ban thought, remembering his reluctance to submit to such a potentially deadly weakness, just _maybe_ letting fate work its will sometimes was a _good _thing. His tutors had warned him well of the myriad pitfalls a witch of his lineage faced, but none of them had made any mention about falling into the one which above all else held the power to break or make him completely. He and Akabane had created their relationship out of a mutual fascination; to their surprise, it had wound up blossoming into something greater than anything either of them had ever expected. He couldn't help but think that Ginji, that fool, knew a hell of a lot more than he let on.

"I wonder…" he said aloud, more to himself than his lover. "Was the choice ever really mine to make…?"

A screeching made them both raise their heads. Some of the monkeys that had escaped were chasing each other around the boats. One spied Ban staring at it and bared its teeth, right before turning around and hoisting its furry butt square in his direction.

"Yeah, screw you too, fleabag," Ban muttered. He shook his head at Akabane. "Don't ask," he sighed.

"We should take a vacation. It's been a long day for both of us, hasn't it?" Akabane said sympathetically.

"We've got Europe coming up." Ban paused as something else came to mind. "Hey, Kuroudo…"

"Yes?"

"You knew that stuff of Himiko's you used doesn't completely dissolve diamonds, right?"

"I suppose. What are you thinking of, Ban-kun?"

"Well…acid might not put a real big dent in them, but they _can_ be destroyed by intense heat...!"

--

"You have a delivery."

The words, soft and intoned with neutrality, perked Kyouji Kagami's hearing. He looked up to see Sarai Kagenuma, shrouded as usual, approaching like mist on a breeze.

"A present? For me? Sarai-kun, you shouldn't have." Kagami smiled. He rather liked toying with the other man; one of his long-term goals was to see if he could ever crack that immovable mask. Kagenuma was virtually impossible to faze. Call it a side effect of vessel-service, he supposed.

The other man shrugged. "It arrived not ten minutes ago, I was told. It's waiting for you at the south Beltline access."

That meant it wasn't from the other Trust members. Curious as to who would be sending him mystery packages, Kagami stepped past Kagenuma and proceeded along the corridor at a relaxed clip until he reached the entryway. Bypassing the gates, he reached for the keypad's lock and the edges of his manicured nails brushed cool smoothness. A tiny vial tumbled not quite onto his feet, clinking against the door by its attached string.

Kagami frowned. He picked up the vial and unraveled the paper taped to it.

_J'irai cracher sur vos tombes._

He chuckled under his breath, rolling the still-corked bottle of flame perfume in his fingers. He had no idea what he'd done to earn it lately, but her ire was vastly amusing. So adorable, that spitfire show of spirit – if it was truly hers. He would have to see to it that they met again soon. Still smiling, Kagami opened the door –

- and a popping noise preceded the _whoosh_ of temperature, right into the dancing ether that momentarily blinded him, and Kagami smelled metal, and bitter, grainy chemical; when next his vision cleared he found himself staring at a rectangular block that had an octopus of wires protruding from it, and those were attached to the cluster of uncorked vials, each containing a full dose of flame perfume –

- which was spewing geysers into the atmosphere, because the door with the bottle that he'd opened had had that same string linked to its other side as well, and the additional length was secured to the trigger mechanism on the now-freed group of corks –

-----

--

All translations are to the best of my ability; I don't claim any knowledge or expertise with any of them. Some other notes on this story, per Wikipedia:

_- Nacht der langen Messer _is German for the phrase "Night of the Long Knives," which generally refers to acts of vengeance but is also synonymous with the massacre known to Germans as "**Röhm-Putsch**", a purge of political enemies by the Nazi regime in which 85 – 100 or more people (exact counts vary, depending on sources) were killed and thousands more arrested on suspicion. Interestingly, the origin of this phrase may have been based in Arthurian legend, in which the alleged British chieftain Vortigern and a company of his men were betrayed and all but one or two (excluding Vortigern, who was said to have escaped) were slaughtered by Jute, Angle and Saxon (whose tribe wielded long knives called saxes or seaxes, hence their name) mercenaries after having appeared unarmed at what they believed was going to be a peace treaty banquet. There, it is known as _Brad y Cyllyll Hirion_ ("The Treachery of the Long Knives") in Welsh.

Drowning was a popular punishment for suspected and accused 'witches' and their supporters during the witch hunts of Europe, with the added misery being that if one managed to survive forced underwater immersion (i.e., floating or being able to swim to surface), it was commonly seen as 'proof' that one was a witch anyway, and that person would then be beaten or tortured to death regardless!

Sadly, in certain parts of the world, there are still societies today which believe that any misfortunes, natural or man-made, are caused by witches, and it's all too common for people (often children) to be exiled, shunned, abused or murdered after having been blamed for something that was never their fault in the first place.

The vengeance as used in this story is twofold. In keeping with this series, Kagami hasn't forgotten the J-tattoo given to him by a certain knife-toting transporter (as seen in the fic Crossroads), and arranged the treachery – the phony transport job that deceived Akabane. Likewise, with the attempt on Jackal's life still fresh in both their minds, Ban and Akabane chose to make their displeasure explicitly clear...with a little help from their mutual pal Himiko. - evil grin –

And no, kids, Kagami isn't dead, despite all appearances. I still have plenty of use for him in the future. – cackles –

- "Du hast mein herz gestohlen" is German for "You've stolen my heart."

- "Lieber Gott im Himmel" is German for "My God in Heaven."

- "Liebe" is German for "love;" in this case Ban means it as an endearment the same as Akabane calls him "-kun."

- "J'irai cracher sur vos tombes" is French for"I Shall Spit On Your Graves." The inspiration for this comes from a real-life satirical of the same title.

- Kusanagi is a mythical sword famed in Japanese legend; it is said to be on the same status and par as King Arthur's well-known Excalibur. "Kusanagi" literally means "sword of the snake," although its more oft-used titles include "Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi" (lit. "Grasscutter Sword") and "Ama-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi" ("Sword of the Gathering Clouds of Heaven").

- The purpose of CPR (cardiopulmonary resuscitation) is NOT to restart a stopped heart, but rather to circulate the body's oxygenated blood supply while defibrillation serves as the actual heart-re-starter. Improperly performed CPR can actually -decrease- a person's chances of survival, in addition to causing chest injuries such as cracked ribs (chest pain is a common factor after any such revival attempt, as well as with the Heimlich maneuver commonly employed during a choking crisis).

The type of CPR used depends on the age of the victim and their circumstances; there are differing techniques for adults and children and thus it's extremely important that one either learns the correct skills under appropriate supervision, or defers to another person who is properly trained in this medical knowledge. For the purposes of this fic, Ban being Ban, we'll assume he's learned such being that his unusual life has doubtless led him to study what he and his grandmother would need him to know in order to survive his turbulent nomadic existence.


	29. No Blissful Ignorance

Title: No Blissful Ignorance

Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #2 – "news; letter"

Rating: PG-13 (m/m, language)

Warnings/Spoilers: Semi-heavy canonical references to Akabane's and Ban's histories, and manga arcs/characters, all tweaked to suit my purposes.

Notes: The song "Que Sera, Sera" (as sung by Doris Day) is written by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans. No profit or ownership is claimed by me, I'm only using the lyrics in the spirit of good fun.

- Makubex's Trium Astral Unlocker is a real data entry – you'll need a good slow-motion pause button to catch it, but if you look carefully on your TV while watching the anime during the IL arc, you can see a very brief flash of it in a corner onscreen.

- The Biblical verse Akabane references at the end is Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 – "To everything there is a season."

- Ban's knowledge of the Serpens constellation is courtesy of the Wikipedia entry.

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the above, the usual blah.  
Summary: Akabane and Ban learn of things they're probably better off not knowing.

--

Makubex is reading.

This in itself is nothing new. He's always loved to read, has done so ever since he was a toddler and could grasp the languages taught to him. The difference is that his reading is done mostly by computer rather than print form – though he enjoys the weight of a book cradled in his hands as much as he does the flow of syntax across a glowing screen.

Sakura sits across from him, patiently working away at a piece of cloth as she weaves a scarf she's been making. She looks up from her threading to watch his calculations for a minute and then says, not unkindly, "You should rest soon, Makubex."

"Later I will," he promises, fingers dancing in a blur over five keypads he's manipulating simultaneously, without taking his eyes away from the computer monitors he's currently engaged with. "I want to see if I can beat their latest system. I'm so close…"

'They' whom he's referring to is the ubiquitous shadow that touches every aspect of this limitless fortress: the unseen, impenetrable malignancy that is Babylon City. More specifically, its Brain Trust, which controls – or used to – all the life that dwells within its borders. Masaki's defection from their ranks has proven most useful in providing Makubex with information, one of the news bits being that they've changed the Archive's security access so that it can't be so easily hacked again. They haven't forgiven the boy wonder's previous trespass, which is why Makubex travels with an armed guard these days if he ventures out of his headquarters into Lower Town. Assassination would not be an unheard-of solution to the upper echelon's problems.

But he is nothing if not intelligent, and persistent, and shortly after midnight achieves the formerly-impossible. The main screen flashes dark blue with a triumphant chime, announcing to Makubex and Sakura that he's just broken into Brain Trust's Archive for the second time.

"Makubex," Sakura says, but the tone of her voice is different than the one she uses when trying to get her charge to take care of basic necessities. Like her brother she takes very seriously her protection duties and is concerned what his precociousness might bring down upon not her own head but his.

"Don't worry," Makubex is quick to assure her, knowing how she fusses over him. "I'm not staying long. I'll just grab what I came for and patch up the hole I made. They'll never know I was in there."

He institutes a 'plug' – a program he created to mask his activities within a system for a temporary period of time. Makubex checks his timer once it's set and begins ticking off the seconds. He'll have two minutes to raid the Archive before he's discovered and the warehouse cuts him off.

Mindful of his deadline he works quickly, surfing from screen to screen after penetrating the firewalls, calling up the information he's interested in and copying that to his hard drive for future perusal. There's so much to see, so much to learn, but Makubex forestalls his immediate curiosity and concentrates on saving files.

He'll only have this one chance to sneak about inside the Archive and he knows if he screws it up he won't get another shot. His earlier words to Sakura weren't quite truthful; Babylon will eventually figure out that their precious storehouse was invaded, but they won't be able to discover exactly who did it without a thorough and tedious investigation. Makubex is certain they'll put two and two together and point the finger in his direction anyway, because of his reputation with them.

"What I found out from Masaki," he explains to Sakura as he tracks the progression of his data-savers, "is that the Archive isn't just a fixed place where Brain Trust stores their data. It's a _portal_ of information, a nexus with infinite possibilities that open any number of gateways to other dimensions. When I was searching for the data on my IL device I found something called the Trium Astral Unlocker, but at the time I didn't know what it was for. Masaki told me it's a program they use to open these doors. When they want to know something specific, they dip into it like a savings account. The balance comes in when they adjust their plans for a new alternative, and this gets deposited into a separate archive. That's how they're able to plan ahead for contingencies."

Sakura nods – though she isn't as well-versed in the technologies as he is, she is smart and quick to grasp the basics of what he's telling her. "Hence their claim that they know past, present and future. It's just as that man Midou said."

"Exactly. What they didn't count on was a few random entities going berserk in their programming. Like Ginji-san. Even though they have all the information on him, they still don't know _him,_ what he's truly capable of." Makubex grins as he wipes his brow, still fixated on the transfer of information whirring past at dizzying speed. "It was a big surprise for Brain Trust when Ginji-san shorted out their system to free me, even if it was a temporary breach. Trium still has its backup power, and it only shut off one of the doors they use to access the flow. But it showed them that they weren't as invincible as they thought."

The timer beeps. Thirty seconds of his allotted period have elapsed. Makubex swivels from keyboard to keyboard, inputting data as needed and trying where possible to speed the flow, to collect as much information as he can before he's forced to retreat.

"Babylon's more nervous these days, Sakura. Ginji-san and his partner taught them that they aren't the gods they make themselves out to be. This 'clock' that I found, it's a limit on the amount of time they have to secure the information they need. For some reason it keeps resetting itself to zero and wiping out the memory banks that had already accumulated. When they opened the main gateway they couldn't force it back shut because the energies were so powerful. Lots of little gateways have been springing up all over since, but it's been virtually impossible for them to recover the information they were able to collect because the portals are constantly shifting. Even if they could track each one down, the gateways are just too numerous to navigate; sifting through them would probably take several lifetimes."

He pauses for a breath, working up saliva in his mouth to moisten his nerves-dry throat.

"That's why Mugenjou feels like it's coming apart at the seams lately. They've disrupted the natural flow of order in this world, and the Fortress's boundaries are dissolving elsewhere through these smaller dimensional doors. Things that shouldn't be showing up even in the virtual worlds seem to be increasing in frequency. Now they're trying to accelerate the process that will allow them to unlock the City's sealed gates so they can tap into this main portal's energy for its fullest power. Once they have that, they can stop the shifting of worlds and manipulate _all _space and matter the way they want. But first they need to gain control of the three keys. That's the only way those seals can be opened."

"No wonder Kagami was so willing to follow your orders," Sakura says, laying aside her craftwork to inch closer to him so she can watch what's taking place onscreen. "He knew of the keys' locations. He had to, in order to have collected their data to report to the Trust."

"That, and he was giving them my information at the same time," Makubex responds sourly. "All the better to get in my way once the time came for him to switch loyalties."

"One minute," Sakura says, a twinge of alarm in her soft voice as she notes the timer. "I thought that Akabane Kuroudo wasn't one of those keys, though."

"He isn't - not one of the principals for the Babylon Gate, anyway." Makubex falls silent for a few seconds as he facilitates another passage for more data as he frantically mines the Archive in the remaining moments. "Doctor Jackal is something else. I'm not sure what his purpose is yet. Remember how Masaki told us there were other random variables, other catalysts scattered in the system? That's why I'm hacking into the Archive. They have information I haven't been able to find anywhere else, and it might tell us more about how to defeat the Brain Trust once and for all. One thing I do know is that Jackal's important enough for them to want to keep a close eye on him."

"We know he's important to the Get Backers. And he has ties to Himiko-san as well. But there doesn't seem to be any link between him and Shido-san."

"Oh yes there is," Makubex says. "Shido-san hired Doctor Jackal to get involved with the blood feud between the tribal factions. In doing that, he inadvertently alerted the Black Thread users that destroyed Kazuki-san's family. Kazuki-san told me once that when he risked his life in the Beltline he'd come to a great door, shining with 'the light of heaven itself,' but beyond that he couldn't remember anything else that happened."

Sakura's frown deepens as she picks up on the puzzle. "Juubei told me that the Black Threads have some kind of connection with Babylon City. If they heard that Kazuki-san was coming – "

" – the Brain Trust was alerted as well," Makubex finishes. "It had to have been the City gates themselves that Kazuki-san was talking about. Whatever's behind those doors is important enough to keep under close guard. There's a seal on the doorway that prevents unauthorized people from crossing through – on either side. It's as if they want to keep the City in as much as they want to push strangers out."

"Thirty seconds."

"Almost done – "

"Makubex!"

"Just a few more seconds!" Makubex whirls from keyboard to keyboard snatching the information from its etherworld before being forced to concede his headway; with just seconds to spare he backs out of each network and closes up the trail he's made as he 'unplugs' the program that allowed him invisible access.

They both breathe huge sighs of relief and then Makubex springs up again from his slouched position, fist tight with triumph. "Yes! I did it! Sakura, send Grandpa Gen a message for me. Tell him I'll be sending him some important emails soon. I'm going to start sorting all this stuff in the meantime."

"Right away," Sakura promises. "Are you going to send him what you copied?"

"First I have to decode it," Makubex explains. "A lot of their files were encrypted. I can crack what I need to, but I might have to have Grandpa's help with some of it. The older data uses a code I'm not familiar with."

He grins at her and in the glow of computer screens his pale face is an eerie fluorescent shine. "How pissed off do you think Brain Trust will be once they figure out their own network's being systematically turned against them?"

"Makubex, that isn't funny," Sakura scolds, though there is a hint of affectionate pride in her tone, and in spite of herself she feels a twinge of excitement – the hope that their hard-won freedom will someday soon be extended to all of Mugenjou.

--

"Hey."

Akabane doesn't acknowledge Ban's greeting. He knows that the other man will come to him as surely as a hound scents blood. He waits silently, pulling the blanket around his shoulders a little more for further protection against the cold night air.

Ban is well aware of what drove his lover out on the balcony this late, even if he hasn't yet asked. It's the same thing that's been bothering them both lately, though Akabane isn't inclined to discuss it beyond simple explanation. Ban understands even if he doesn't much care for the reticence: to admit one's secrets is to confess a kind of vulnerability that threatens to bring hostile recourse, in the hunter-prey dynamic that they're intimate with.

Even so, that doesn't stop him from attempting to seek information. "Can't sleep again, huh?"

Akabane shrugs.

"Another dream?" Ban comes over to the bench the other man is sitting on and plops beside him. He grabs for the blanket. "Gimme some before I freeze."

Akabane relents and unfolds one arm from his body, allowing Ban to squirm closer to him. They wrap the blanket snugly around themselves and sit for a few minutes before Akabane deigns to speak.

"Always it is the same: it is me and yet not me, a figure I recognize as my own but with someone else inside. The dreamscapes vary – to date I have seen deserts, forests, cities and palaces. But always…that sense of watching myself in scenes of lives I cannot remember having lived…though a part of me senses that there is something more to them, that these are actual memories from the mists of time…"

He falls quiet for a moment, and then adds, "Why that is, I know not. I have never, so far as I am aware, expressed any desire to visit the desert, of all places."

"It would bore you," Ban agrees noncommittally. "Hardly anything grows out there, and I doubt you'd find much by way of suitable opponents. Scorpions would rather hide than stick around for a fight."

"Then why do I feel as though there's something out there that calls to me?" the other man asks softly.

Ban starts to reach for his cigarettes and lighter before realizing that they're back on the bedroom's nightstand. He makes a grunt of annoyance and settles for tucking his arms around Akabane. "The ancients believed that dreams were messages from the gods. Omens of either ill or good repute. Modern psychology has it that a dream is really just a regurgitated scrambling of different stuff from your subconscious. So maybe if you keep dreaming about particular places or things, your mind is trying to tell you something important."

Akabane peers over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"Or it could just be the result of too many late-night snacks. Don't mind me, I'm just talking out of my ass," Ban snorts.

"You're the dream-master," Akabane points out. "You of all people ought to know plenty about the science."

"Pseudoscience," Ban corrects. "There's trances that are actually related to my kin's craft, and there's dreaming that's nothing but synapse-and-neuron vomit. It's something you have to learn to take with a grain of salt."

"So which type is your Jagan?"

Dazzling blue eyes blink, and Akabane suddenly finds himself sitting in a field of pink flowers and sprouting pizza in the middle of the Honky Tonk with tare-Ginjis grazing all around him. A minute later, it ends, and he's back to staring in surprise at Ban.

"Both," Ban says with a grin.

"Midou-kun!" Akabane swats him, but he can't find it in himself to be truly annoyed. "I was being serious."

"So was I."

In the semi-darkness of the moonlit night, it's hard to see Ban's expression clearly, and Akabane can't tell whether this is true or not. He sighs, a whisper carrying more affection than exasperation. "I never know what to make of you sometimes, Ban-kun."

Ban reaches up and tousles his hair. "Feeling's mutual, Kuroudo-liebe."

They sit in silence for a while, content with nothing more than each other's oddly comforting presence. Eventually Ban speaks, gesturing at the sky. "Want to see the serpent constellation?"

"Where?"

Ban points out the northern star as orientation, then traces a winding path above with his finger. "One of the original 48 constellations listed by Ptolemy. _Serpens_ – or actually, _Serpens Caput,"_ he explains, finger outlining the head of the snake in the western half of the sky, "and _Serpens Cauda _– " his finger travels the length of the body to the tail in the east. "Between them you have the legendary Aesclepius. Grandma told me all these fucked-up fairy tales about it. How disobedient children would find themselves swallowed up by the stars' fangs if they didn't straighten out. The kind of thing that probably would've landed her in hot water with child protection agencies, you know."

He pauses, then reluctantly concedes, "Although there was this brief period when I was about six or seven and I had to take a flashlight with me every time I went to the damn bathroom at night. The old hag had told me Aesclepius could travel through the plumbing."

"Oh dear." Akabane shares a little chuckle with Ban. He looks up and smiles thoughtfully. "I can't imagine you ever being afraid of anything."

Ban doesn't smile back. "Everyone's afraid of something. Some of us are just better at hiding it than others."

"I see." Akabane lowers his gaze. "If I may ask, what is it that you fear, Midou-kun?"

"Besides the obvious factors, you mean?"

"Yes."

It's Ban's turn to sigh, and he does so heavily. The moonlight catches his eyes in a shimmer of silver-blue, mesmerizing Akabane.

"Forgetting," his lover answers after a stretch of time.

Akabane tilts his head curiously, waiting for details. Ban grasps his hand under the blanket, squeezing gently. Reassurance that this is real - that _they_ are real – in a surreal dreamscape.

"I didn't realize it till after Ginji told me about Fuyuki when we first met him. He said the guy always kept himself to himself, even when he was in the Volts gang. 'Lone wolf' fits him perfectly even without the metamorphosis. Ginji said that was why the Beastmaster fought as if he had nothing to lose – because he didn't." Ban stares up at the sky. "He'd already lost everything when his clan was wiped out in the big feud between the Maryuudos and the Kiryuudos."

"That was what Semimaru said," Akabane says softly. "The Kiryuudo clan believed that a Maryuudo ancestor had stolen the heritage that the tribes were to have shared. It sparked off a bitter rivalry for centuries."

Ban nods. "Witches have always been hated, Akabane. Always. Doesn't matter what kind they are or where they come from. The acts of a few bad ones stained the memories of the majority, and every witch since that time has been persecuted for it."

"People fear what they do not understand," Akabane says, his voice even quieter now.

"And what they fear, they hate, and what they hate, they try to destroy," Ban says, an almost knifelike edge creeping into his tone. "But that isn't what scares me. Ignorance comes in many forms, but the core of it stays the same. I can deal with that." He shivers involuntarily, and clutches the blanket. "That's why the witches of old copied down their histories in hidden texts, and passed this knowledge on to the fledglings through stories. They knew that the mobs could never exterminate every single one of them. Sure, they'd bust hell wide open trying, but it's a big world out there. Somehow the survivors escaped. But without that knowledge, those lessons, what would they be? Nothing. Nobodies."

"Forgotten," Akabane murmurs.

"My father's dead. My mother didn't want me. Grandmother's gone to ground. Maria…she meant well, I know that now, but…it was just too hard, starting over again with someone new. For all I knew it would've ended up as another disaster if I'd stuck around." Ban looks up at the sky again, and this time he's blinking, slow, controlled movements. "It's a miracle Yamato and Himiko even got through to me when they did. When that went bad…" He coughs roughly, reaches for his cigarettes again and remembers: they're inside. "Dammit."

He pauses before continuing. "I know what drives Himiko. And the computer kid, too. A sense of self is probably one of the first things human beings come to understand, and it's arguably the most important. Lose that identity, and what have you got? Are you just something meaningless taking up more space, or are you still _someone,_ still alive?"

"_Yes,"_ Akabane says, unable to help the tremble of emotion in his voice. "That's exactly what it feels – " He bites his lip. "What it feels like for me," he finishes in a whisper, daring to meet Ban's eyes.

"Me too," his lover answers quietly.

By unspoken agreement, they huddle closer together, both of them now seeking strength from each other. Akabane is keenly aware of their kinship, and an increasingly familiar and not altogether unwelcome wave of emotion washes over him. He wants to hold Ban close, tightly, and protect him from other, less merciful, hunters of the night. He wants to share that heart-pounding thrill of the chase, the hunt, the capture and bonding if not the kill, and this is the one person who understands that more than anyone else he's ever met.

Ban speaks again. "I don't care if people remember me as some cheapskate asshole with a sea-urchin hairstyle. I don't even care if they remember me at all. What wakes me up in the middle of the night is the possibility that one day _I_ won't remember any of them, good or bad."

Confused, Akabane lifts a hand to stroke Ban's nape. "Why wouldn't you remember?"

Ban looks away. All he says is, "There's a price to be paid for screwing with other people's heads. Sometimes I wonder just how far I can push my luck before it hits back."

Akabane's brows squiggle together in a small furrow before smoothing out. "The solution to that problem is easy, Midou-kun."

"Oh?"

"Keep up your one-hundred-percent success rate of not being defeated."

Ban laughs. "It's a little more complicated than that, Jackal."

Akabane passes his fingers through the back of Ban's hair in repeated caresses. "It can't be any more complicated than my situation," he offers.

Ban's eyebrow lifts in silent request. Akabane obliges.

"The people of Mugenjou look upon Babylon Tower as an unreachable zenith. To them it appears as a modern-day Olympus, and the people up there are the gods who cast down fickle fortunes at apparent whim." He moistens his lips. "But one person's heaven can be another's hell."

"Wasn't exciting enough up there for you, huh?"

Akabane does not respond to Ban's wisecrack with like-minded humor. Unsmiling, he says, "Demons were once said to be angels too."

He starts to get up, to go back inside the apartment where it's warm, but is tugged back into his lover's embrace, Ban having sensed that he'd inadvertently ruffled Akabane's feathers. Akabane surrenders readily, lacking the desire to maintain an indefinite irritation. He leans against Ban and they sit for a while longer, watching the condensation from their breaths disappear into the endless universe's deceptive stillness.

How strange, this existence called life…

Akabane thinks. It used to be that he believed that because he claimed no one to whom he could turn to, no one to whom he had pledged allegiance, he was absolved of any responsibility concerning loyalties. Neutrality allows him the flexibility of freedom, to choose as he will, and remain free of all bindings in his pursuit of curiosity, of testing the limits of his unusual powers.

He thought that, because of this, his freedom would never become the kind of trap that his former environment was. He thought that because he professes loyalty only to himself and maintains a detached professional air above all, he could be neither a betrayer nor a betrayed.

Perhaps…he was wrong…

Akabane speaks once more. "Do you believe in fate, Ban-kun?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"Maybe it is fate that…we should part one day."

"What do you mean?"

"Brain Trust will not let any of us go so easily. You will have to choose." Akabane looks sorrowful as he says this, as if expecting Ban to suddenly decide that their relationship is over.

Ban scowls. "What the hell's that mean? What are you saying?"

Akabane lowers his gaze, blinking rapidly, and looks away to the horizon. It's a thought that has preyed upon his mind for some time now, and though he's loath to bring it up, it's a wound that needs lancing one way or another. He would not blame Ban for making this choice; even though he knows the outcome, he still desperately wants that hope. Midou-kun has made him feel truly alive for the first time in a long time, and Akabane has grown so addicted to this intriguing pleasure that he cannot imagine what hell it must be, to be forcibly denied this guiding light.

Ban's frown turns fierce. He takes his lover's face in hand and forces him to look up, into his eyes. "Akabane. Do you want me to go? Do _you_ want to go?"

A black mass of hair whips around in a blur as the other man shakes his head. _"No!"_

"Then that's that," Ban declares with an air of finality.

Akabane looks at him, not quite daring to believe such truth. "But – "

Ban puts a finger to his lips. "No more talk of those idiots. We're gonna go to Europe, we're gonna have fun, and nobody is gonna interfere with that. 'Cause if they do, I'll Snakebite their asses so hard they'll be picking their balls out of their skulls."

Akabane utters a nervous laugh. "Midou-kun, how vulgar," he admonishes.

Ban is grinning, but his eyes aren't smiling. "I'm serious. We've fought too hard for what we have, and I'll be damned and dry-roasted on a spit if I'm going to let that be taken from us by a bunch of power-hungry jackoffs too chickenshit to even show their faces." His voice settles. "While we're on the subject, mind telling me what it is that you fear?"

Akabane doesn't need to think on that. His reply is immediate. "Death."

Ban's eye twitches. "You're shitting me, right?"

Akabane shakes his head again, his eyes somber, all traces of sly pretense vanishing in the wake of stark honesty. "There are many kinds of death, Midou-kun. The first death is only the easiest."

_I would die without you, Midou Ban-kun. Of all the things I desire to glimpse at your hand, I beg of you never to show me such a nightmare._

"I want to give you something."

Akabane extends his hand and turns his palm up. The flesh underneath his scar ripples slightly, and then a glowing spire of blue thrusts its way up with the swiftness of lightning.

It's an impressive measure of how far they've come that Ban can watch these deadly scalpels emerge with such calm. Like everyone else, he used to flinch every time Akabane brought one out; now he just raises an eyebrow to ask what's going on.

Akabane smiles. He lays the blade flat against Ban's lips and kisses him, sealing the scalpel between their mouths. The chill of the trapped metal, so dangerous if its sharp edge should slip, adds a forbidden excitement to the kiss.

Akabane raises his head and looks into Ban's eyes. "Trust me?" he murmurs. Ban nods.

Pleased, Akabane lowers his gaze to Ban's left hand and cups it carefully in his own. He positions the scalpel directly over the center of Ban's palm and makes a shallow cut. As a wellspring of red rushes to the surface, Akabane tips the scalpel so it stands upright of its own volition, point side down, atop the wound.

Curious, Ban squints at it. The knife wobbles, and then suddenly he feels a stinging burn as it swiftly melts into his flesh like a sinking pat of dissolving butter.

"What – hey, _woah!_" He yelps and tries to pull it back, but the scalpel burrows into his bloodstream like some kind of tenacious termite. It's gone before he can get a grip on it, and incredibly, the wound seals itself as neatly as if it had never been there in the first place.

"What the shit was that?!" Ban growls at Akabane.

"A gift. For protection," Akabane says sweetly. "I wanted you to have it. It pleases me that you chose to accept."

"Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, Jackal, but couldn't you have just bought me a CD or something instead?" Ban flexes his hand, staring at the unbroken skin. "It's not going to float around inside and lop off something vital when I'm not expecting it…will it?"

"No. It's harmless in its neutral form. It will only draw forth if you wish to summon it, and I can teach you how to do that." Akabane smiles at Ban and kisses his palm. "I would have liked to have given you a sword. A fine warrior deserves no less, hmm? But that's a little more difficult to manage, I'm afraid." He gives his lover a coy look. "This was the next best thing. You do like it, don't you?"

"It was nice of you to think of me," Ban says gruffly. "I think. It's just…I thought _you_ were supposed to be the designated silverware drawer in this relationship."

Akabane laughs, a subtle merriment that is strangely contagious. "Lovers share, do they not? Am I not free to choose to bestow a token of my affections upon you?"

"You already did, twice," Ban reminds him. "More than that, if you count any bodily donations from Fudou. There was that shish-ke-bab with your sword in Mugenjou and the J in my shirt from the Venus trip."

"Well, they say you always hurt the ones you love…"

Ban cuffs him lightly on the head, and Akabane chuckles good-naturedly. Ban holds up both of his hands and looks at them. "Great. I got a snake in one arm and a knife in the other. What am I, a walking warehouse for supernatural rejects?"

"You still have your faithful Jackal keeping vigil at your side," Akabane ventures.

Ban can't help it. He shakes his head and smiles. "I always wanted a pet. Never thought it would turn out to be a Jackal." He laughs. "A Jackal. In my mind, in my home, my bed, but most of all…" He taps his left pectoral.

Akabane feels that rending of emotion again, this strange, frightening yet enjoyable flutter. He presses his face to Ban's with tender kisses.

"Make love to me," he says. "Build a fire to warm us both. I burn only for you, my beloved snake-charmer."

_What kind of tomorrow shall we dream about tonight?_

--

"Well. Now you know."

She looks up from the window. Outside, the night beckons with its perfect darkness, and below that, the stars twinkle in their finite landscape. It has been a most interesting conference.

Her companion clears his throat. "Hakase? What do you intend to do about the situation?"

She shifts the timepiece in her arms. In a voice as emotionless as air, she replies, "About what situation?"

The man sighs. "This cannot continue, Hakase. The project has had enough troubles as it is. When are we going to worry about what's left?"

She doesn't move from her place by the window. "And just what do you think we've been doing all this time?"

"I don't – "

She speaks slowly, carefully. "The balance must be redressed. Power unchecked is power that is both useless and dangerous. In doing things my way, we are harnessing that chaos to our will instead of permitting it control over us. That is as it should be. The other Trust members refuse to glimpse this, and that is why they have had the failures their efforts were met with. You of all people should know this by now."

He sighs again, heavier this time, the sound of frustration firmly leashed. "I don't deny that there are certain benefits to your methods. But the other members can't be put off for much longer. They know about the Witch Queen's heir. There's been one attempt already that we know of. It's only a matter of time before they succeed in cracking the seal."

She considers. "I do not believe they will find it so easy. Remember, the Guardian of the Crossroads stalks his shadow now. In order to get at him, they will have to go through the Guardian first."

"They've attempted to remove him from the equation as well."

At that she starts, covering the flash in her eyes before it can be seen as she turns around. "And?" she asks, still composed, still measured in her focus.

Her companion rubs at his stubbled chin. "I don't have all the details, but the Observer does. However, he's currently recovering in sickbay from some sort of accident, and isn't expected to emerge for a time."

She relaxes. "I see. They should know better, fools. The pair has bonded now. They will safeguard each other's welfare jealously until the awakening comes."

"And once that has taken place?"

Hakase – for that is what she is, the Specialist in her field – smiles. It is a colorless gesture devoid of any real humanity behind it. "It is for the will of fate to decide."

Her companion is stunned. "You honestly believe the Archive is to be trusted? After what's happened with the Lightning Emperor and – "

"I didn't say that." She approaches as if gliding on air, so light and smooth are her movements. She reaches out and touches the khaki sleeve of his coat. "You learned for yourself, did you not, Kurusu-san, what it means to choose a path upon the crossroads. The same principle applies here."

She withdraws to the window, turning her back upon him once more to study the seemingly eternal flickers of the empire below. "Rest assured that when the time calls we will act. Until then we are bound to the map drawn by the Archive. The puzzle is not yet complete. Do you understand?"

There is a long pause between her words and his answer. "I suppose in due course that enlightenment may reveal itself," Kurusu Masaki says reluctantly, wishing he could find the faith within himself to believe in such a strategy. Even with his former charge's inspiration, Masaki has seen too much to bring himself to trust freely in the same lighthearted manner as Ginji Amano.

She takes his words as acceptance. "Good. Now, bring me the one called Teshimine. I wish to discuss this with him also…"

--

Makubex takes a drink from the nearby bottle and wipes his brow. Sakura has long since retired to bed, after extracting a firm promise from him that he would shortly follow. His eyes are strained from reading, even with the special goggles he wears when spending long hours in front of the computer screens. He's confused.

The screen is full of garbled coding that he's never seen before.

None of his translation programs have been able to break it. No one he knows presently can decipher it. Still, all is not lost. Makubex sifts through his databases for tricks he can use, applications he can engage that might offer a glimpse into the murky waters he's waded into.

Finally, an internet search turns up a translation program that appears promising. Using software downloaded from Grandfather Gen, Makubex integrates the two programs to utilize their capabilities to the fullest.

It's painstaking work that takes him well into the morning to sort, but his persistence eventually pays off. The coding is a variation on a form of ancient writing; luckily modern methods have enabled scholars to translate the original into an identifiable language. Makubex picks his way through the minefield until he has a coherent document of sorts. It's only several sentences' worth, but it's a start.

He yawns, only now realizing how tired he is. Curiosity calls, but Makubex knows he'd better call it a night – or day, now – and get in some sleep before Sakura wakes to scold him for having stayed up all night. He gives the document on his main screen one last look before powering down the computers:

_THE CURSE OF THIRTY FATES_

_HEREFORTH TO BE KNOWN AS THE TALE OF THE SERPENT AND THE JACKAL _

--

The spires loom as an endless needle piercing the heart of the blue skies above. Akabane gives the topmost tiers of Mugenjou little heed – he's seen them many times before, and doubtless will again in the future; thus they are of little interest to him. What is of interest is the job he's been hired for – and by the new boy king, no less.

He hums the first few bars of his favorite song quietly as he strolls along the corridors until he reaches the inner core of Makubex's sanctum, where he is greeted by Sakura and escorted inside. She tells him that Makubex wishes to meet in one of the adjacent rooms where the virtual reality enactments take place. This is unusual for most who obtain an audience with the born-again-Volts leader, but Akabane isn't entirely surprised. After all, his last meeting with the boy took place in just such an environment.

Sakura leads him to the VR room and exits. Akabane waits.

Makubex is prompt. The immediate area in front of Akabane seems to shimmer and warp like the flickers of a mirage, and a pair of stained-glass doors like those one might see in a church materialize. Makubex has taken to using these entrances as his hallmark, knowing that his allies will recognize them for what they are. Akabane reaches for the handle of one door, pulls it open, and goes inside.

White light envelops him and he has to tug the brim of his hat down to shield his face, but the blindness doesn't last past a few seconds and then he can see once more. When he looks up, Akabane receives quite the startling view.

The temple's chamber is dimly-lit, but the torches flickering on either side of the passage provide plenty of light to see the dais leading up to the great altar ahead, over which an enormous pair of outstretched wings holds court. Huge statues of beast-headed humanoid forms flank the quietly-bubbling pool which takes up center stage. Filtered sunlight trickles in from the vent shafts high above, but the light disappears into darkness before it can ever touch the walls. Ageless stories of time immemorial decorate the stones but offer no clues as to the mysteries within. Wisps of strange scents – spices, incenses – breathe curious hints in the back of Akabane's memory, but for the life of him he can't immediately place them.

He doesn't like this place.

"I tried to be creative. The ancients had a gift for architecture, so I based it as closely as I could on descriptions from the old texts," Makubex says, coming around from behind one of the statues.

"An impressive job, for a VR," Akabane says. "What is this place?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." Makubex eyes him carefully. "You've been here before…haven't you." He purposely makes his observation a statement.

Akabane frowns. "I'm afraid you must be mistaken. I've never been to any such place."

Makubex clearly doesn't believe him, but the boy is polite enough not to comment on it. He comes closer to Akabane. "I have a request, Doctor Jackal. I have something I want you to transport for me."

"What?"

Makubex reaches into a pocket of his pullover. He takes out a data disc, gleaming in its protective case, and hands this to Akabane.

Akabane glances at the unlabeled disc briefly and slips it into the breast pocket of his coat. "Who is the intended recipient?"

"I'm looking at him."

Akabane is startled enough by this to look up sharply. He manages to school his surprise in time and regards Makubex with a cool stare. "You went to the trouble of hiring me to collect a data disc that you intended to give to me regardless? You are a strange one. You could have simply asked me to come and pick it up. Or passed it along to someone else to give to me…"

"I couldn't risk it falling into the wrong hands," Makubex says. "That's partly why we're in the VR. I've scrambled the signals in this location to give us some privacy." He pauses, and then adds, "You helped me with my thesis once. It's time for me to repay the favor."

Akabane frowns harder. He feels the first inklings of a bad situation brewing, and though he doesn't understand why, he trusts his intuition. His hand unconsciously presses against the spot in his coat where the data disc rests. "I don't understand."

The boy king isn't smiling either; his seriousness fits one of his youth far more than it ought to. "You will, when you look at that disc."

"I see." Akabane draws the length of his coat around himself and prepares to leave. "Thank you, Makubex-kun," he says quietly.

"You're welcome. Akabane-san?"

"Yes?"

"May I ask you one more thing?"

Akabane turns around again. "What?"

Makubex licks his lips, looking apprehensive now. He speaks – but Akabane doesn't hear it, or thinks he doesn't.

He raises a brow at the boy. "I'm sorry, what was that again?"

Makubex's lips part – and again, nothing comes out that Akabane can remember hearing.

"Makubex-kun, did you have something more you wish to tell me? If not, I will take my leave now."

The boy shrugs and looks away, but not before Akabane catches the paling of his face. "I just wanted to wish you luck," he says awkwardly.

Something isn't right here. Unease grows inside Akabane. He's careful not to let it show – much. "Thank you."

He casts one last look at the chamber. The torches' flames flare and swirl in uniform measure; aside from that, and Makubex's presence, all else is still. Deathly still. The silence reminds Akabane of a violent thunderstorm about to burst, and in spite of the steel in his spine he feels his instincts urging him to flee for his very life.

One of the statuaries catches his attention and Akabane can't help but be drawn towards it, moving as if in a dreamlike trance as he approaches its granite base. The Jackal stands straight, tall, and dispassionate to all pleas as he casts his eternal gaze upon this realm. Akabane is reminded of a similar scenario, a long time ago, when he once stood beneath the scope of this same god genuflecting in a different place, drenched in a spray of blood that had been his first true kill as a transporter.

What might once have been a pleasant memory is curiously now bland, devoid of any emotion coloring it, and in light of Makubex's revelations appears to signal an omen of ominous portent. The Guardian of the Crossroads offers no immediate insight into the situation, however, and Akabane is left with only his whispering restlessness.

Makubex cautiously creeps up from behind him. "Is something wrong, Akabane-san?" he ventures.

"Anpu." The name rolls from his tongue as easily as beaded rainwater, which concerns Akabane even more, though he knows it shouldn't; he knows this culture, knows the patrons' names from history, for it is no coincidence that he took upon the mantle of this one as his professional alias. Even so, the way the syllables shape and flex as they give audible form to the power bespeak of a disturbing familiarity that Akabane knows he ought not to have, no matter how intimate he is with this god's territory.

Makubex rightly senses that he's stirred up a hornet's nest, and keeps a respectful distance from both Akabane and the statue. "You…recognize some of it?"

"Why did you choose this incarnation?" Akabane asks.

The boy looks from the pointed snout's frozen watch to him. "I didn't," Makubex replies softly. "You did."

Akabane jerks his head around so fast the muscles in his neck cry out in pain. He stares rigidly at Makubex, his lips parted on the verge of spitting out an angry demand…but restrains himself. Whatever is going on here, it isn't the boy's fault. Makubex looks just as bewildered as Akabane feels.

"I see. Thank you," he says, after several minutes' silence, having composed himself into calm professionalism once more. Akabane keeps his pace slow, controlled, as he walks toward the VR exit. He resists the urge to look back, knowing that the boy – and the Watcher – have him in their sights.

A gentleman walks, but never runs…not even when he feels on the back of his neck the taint of brimstone from the very hounds of Hell itself.

--

At home, Akabane pauses to shed his coat and hat by the front door, and collect the day's mail and sort through it. Bills, junk advertisements, a letter for Ban and some information on an art company that Akabane had requested some time ago from Clayman. He files the important things in the appropriate baskets on the counter for later investigation and discards the trash. He stoops to offer each chirping feline a welcoming caress, then rises and goes to pour himself a drink of water.

Curiosity is gnawing at the marrow of his bones, but Akabane forces it back behind the gates of containment. He is both anticipating and dreading the revelation of the data disc's contents. A taunting cowardice sneers that delaying the inevitable can't continue indefinitely, but Akabane pretends he doesn't hear that voice, that he's simply going about business as usual.

When it quickly becomes clear that no more stalling tactics are to be had Akabane returns to his coat and withdraws the data disc. He takes it into the room designated as their office, where he and Ban keep their important papers and computer equipment. Akabane's own laptop sits on the desk, and he opens it and boots it into readiness. When the screen displays its setup he inserts the disc and instructs the drive to open it.

The information therein is not a terribly large file, it being mostly comprised of word documents. Akabane selects one from the folder titled _Notes_ and opens it to read. He recognizes Makubex's writing almost immediately.

_The following information was obtained without notice and without authorization. Please proceed in strictest confidence. Higher powers are interested as well. All questions should be directed to an outside liaison without apparent connections, as this channel is no longer secured and cannot be guaranteed._

_All documents have been transcribed as closest to their original forms as possible. Please be aware that any gaps or errors in description may exist and are unintentional, and solely the responsibility of the transcriptionist. Effort has been made to ensure that this information conforms to the accuracy of its original record; when possible, compensations have been suggested as similar alternatives and are noted as such to avoid confusion._

_Be advised that although present evidence cannot confirm it, sources strongly suggest that the Observer may have access to this documentation in addition to other parties. Extreme caution and discretion are recommended pending any further investigation. _

Akabane scowls at that last mention. As if things weren't thorny enough. He sets aside the thought of that aggravating spy and shifts his attention to the next document in line. His eyes widen when he sees how Makubex labeled it: _Voodoo Blood Cross._ Akabane unconsciously folds the fingers of his left hand together as he enters into this file.

Upon first glance it had seemed interesting, but several paragraphs into it and Akabane feels as though he's reading a dry history book. Old stuff, nothing new to see here. Mentions of spirits and ceremonial procedures quickly make his mind glaze over, and he decides to explore this part later. It must have some significance if Makubex had decided to attach it.

He closes it, ignoring the cat that's jumped upon the nearby filing cabinet to watch, and looks at another document.

This one is more fascinating, but quite the unusual offering. It reads exactly like a summary on the back of a romance novel's cover, for that's what it is – an ancient tale of two star-crossed lovers torn apart and periodically reunited throughout history in order to complete their fated journey. As he scans the text Akabane can't help but be reminded of his own mate, and a smile warms his face. He puts his fingers to his lips in a kiss, and gently presses those fingers to the cocky grin on the face of the man next to Akabane in the framed photograph kept on the desk.

As if summoned by thought, his phone beeps, signaling an incoming text message, and Akabane picks it up and flips open the casing. _JOB DONE, SCORE! WE FEAST TONIGHT. SEE YOU THEN. KISSES FROM YOUR FAVORITE RETRIEVAL AGENT._

Akabane chuckles and texts back. _CONGRATS. AT HOME NOW WITH PAPERWORK. TAKE-OUT OK? HI TO GINJI-KUN. KISSES FROM YOUR FAVORITE TRANSPORT AGENT. _

He lays the phone aside and closes the love story to look at the last document. His smile freezes when he sees its label, which glares at him in bolded type no different than its cousins, yet somehow far more threatening. He never thought he would encounter that name again. Dread fills Akabane like water in a drowning man's lungs, and he reluctantly clicks on the file named _Lazarus._

His face curdles like a thundercloud the more he reads. "No," he says out loud, not caring about the disbelief that colors his voice. "No, no, no, no. It's not possible." The text mocks him silently from onscreen, its stark black and white simplicity the perfect rebuttal to his stunned denial. Akabane feels a dark wave rising in his throat. He looks away from the screen to pull his unnerved thoughts together. There is a simple enough way to find out the truth for sure.

He closes the document, then the folder, and ejects the data disc from the drive. After replacing it in its case and putting it into one of the drawers, he calls up a program on his computer and connects to the internet. He systematically proceeds through a series of channels until the site he's looking for finally appears. Akabane types in his password and waits impatiently for the server to permit him access.

Ban would _not_ be happy right now if he knew what he was doing.

The server logs him in with a message. _WELCOME DR. AKABANE. PROF. M. REQUESTS MEETING WITH YOU AT EARLIEST CONVENIENCE. SEE INBOX FOR FURTHER DETAILS._ Akabane ignores this and types in a command prompt.

_REQUEST PROGRAM INITIATIVE #117435-89_

_KEY: LAZARUS_

_REQUEST CURRENT STATUS_

He taps his fingers against the keyboard while he waits for the search to produce results. It isn't long before the network returns with an unwelcome answer.

_RE: LAZARUS OPERATIVE FILE_

_ASSIGNED TO: RESEARCH & DEVELOPMENT_

_KEYS: HUMAN BLOODBORNE PATHOGENS, HUMAN REGENERATIVE PROCESSES_

_SEE ALSO: VOODOO CHILDREN INITIATIVE #117827-90, NOTATION #63-A _

_STATUS: ACTIVE_

_IS THIS THE FILE YOU REQUESTED? _the network asks, and Akabane types _YES,_ and when the prompt screen opens a new window, he adds, _REQUEST DATE OF LAST RECORD._

This time the computer presents its answer without hesitation. Yesterday. The records were updated as recently as yesterday _afternoon,_ according to the timestamp. Far from being retired, Lazarus is very much the active program. _They've_ been monitoring it.

Akabane spits out an expletive, the explosive consonants behind it startling Medusa into a tail-lashing leap. He quickly glances at her and says, "My apologies. Don't you repeat that in front of Midou-kun. It's not polite." Still seething, he turns back to the laptop and files an inquiry into the program. He wants to see what's been added and just who is accessing it.

The screen snaps back with _ACCESS LOCKED PENDING AUTHORIZATION PER APPROVED SIGNATURE_ at him. Akabane enters his name and user code into the little password prompt below the offending message and hits send.

Invalid entry, he's told. They must have removed him from the project's list after the cataclysm, believing he'd have no future interest in it and therefore no reason to want to continue his work in that branch. In spite of his earlier admonition to the cat, Akabane lets loose with another profanity, and another. He needs to speak with the Professor and find out what the hell is going on.

He tries several more user access prompts, but every one is rejected. Finally admitting defeat, he logs out of the network and abruptly stands, shoving the chair backwards hard enough to topple it over.

To say that he is _most_ displeased would be the understatement of the year.

Akabane hugs himself tightly. He closes his eyes. Deep breaths. Deep. Slow. Calm. Calm. Calm. With some effort, he succeeds in slamming a lid on the virulent emotions surging like a wildfire in his heart. Blood pounds in his temple and he presses a hand to his forehead, willing the tempest to subside. He lowers his hand, still breathing slowly, those pesky emotions leashed now.

Akabane opens his eyes, his face composed into perfect blankness. He looks at the window, seeing only a vague impression of his form. He is pleased to see that this image remains calm and quiet and in control, the very model of respectability that a professional would aspire to.

The man in the mirror, however, lies. When Akabane breaks the stare, the glass misses most of what the laptop's screen's final moments capture, and Medusa the cat has only the warning of her human's exposed fangs as he whirls around and slams his scalpel-studded fist through it in a shower of sparks, blood and hissing electronics.

--

"It's Makubex," Ginji says to Ban after giving his phone a puzzled glance. "He wants to talk to you. He sounds worried."

"Huh?" Ban balances the steering wheel in his hand and takes the phone from Ginji. "Computer boy? What's going on?"

"Midou-san, I'm sorry to bother you, but how soon can you get to Mugenjou?"

Ban frowns at the urgency in the kid's voice. "We can be there in fifteen. What's wrong?" he asks sharply.

"I'd rather not say over the phone," Makubex says. "I have to show you something. Is Akabane-san with you?"

"No, he's at the apartment – "

"Good. Please don't tell him about this, Midou-san. I…I don't know what he'd do if he knew. I've been looking up some information on the Vodun curse you once mentioned, and the things I found scared the crap out of me."

Ban feels his blood go cold at the mention of that sorcery. "You should be scared," he says, keeping his voice level. "Magic is no realm for amateurs. What's this got to do with me and Akabane?"

"You'll see."

"All right, calm down," Ban says after hearing the wobble on the tail end of the kid's tone. "Ginji and I will be there shortly."

--

Ren Radou starts when she hears Grandfather curse under his breath in the other room. Gensui Radou is a calm, stalwart man, not prone to fits of temper or outbursts. For something to elicit such a reaction can't bode well for the future. Ren shivers a little. The last time her grandfather experienced this kind of unease was during the time of Makubex's iron rule.

Makubex. Not such a bad guy, she's decided, after having gotten to know him a little better. They've compared VRs a number of times, traded some tips and discussed various theories. They're both very interested in two things – breaking the stranglehold the upper levels of Mugenjou have exerted, and tracing the roots of their questionable heritage as cursed children of the virtual world. Makubex seems to think it's possible to transfer their data into real flesh and blood forms.

Ren has her doubts, not the least of those including her own miserable experiences with the invisible borders that surround the limitless fortress on all sides. Ever since Kazuki of the Strings showed her what lay beyond the restrictions of the little medicine shop, she's tried – and failed – many times to sneak past the force field, to see how far she can push her boundaries before that black hole swallows her bytes up to be forever lost, completely irretrievable from all ether.

Still, as the Knight Toshiki pointed out, everyone needs to follow their own path in some way or another, if only because each person is struggling to discover the meaning of their own existence. Makubex is a gifted strategist; if he believes there is a way to transform virtual into reality, there must be something more to his calculations than wishful dreaming.

Ren sets these thoughts aside for the moment as she pushes away the medicine she was bottling and enters the workstation to see what's agitated Grandfather. She wonders if it's the same thing as before. She knows he was once a part of something very secret, something so forbidden that simply asking about it sends him into stony silence. "It is foolish to question the inevitable," he'd said with a surprising and fearful rumble of anger when she'd once raised the subject. "Let it go, and do not test this with me, child." And he'd turned back to his desk and refused to say another word for the rest of that night.

The elder is not at his computer when she arrives inside the room, though he can't be far away. She hears the rattling of clutter from somewhere in one of the back storerooms and decides this is as good a chance as any. Ren reaches for the scroll button on the computer and quickly browses the screen's contents.

Why would mythology upset her grandfather so? As far as she can tell, the data displays nothing more innocuous than the tale of fallen seraphim who dared the wrath of a God by falling in love from opposite sides. She reads on, curious to learn anything of value, but she can't understand why such a story should be so important to Grandfather.

Growing footsteps remind her that she's risking a lot. Quickly, Ren drags the screen back to the starting point where she found it and darts from the room. Outside the door, she peers through the crack by the hinges and watches as the older man returns to his seat. He's carrying a bottle that's half-empty, and he takes a firm drink from it before setting it on the table nearby.

Ren's eyes widen. She can count on one hand the number of times she's seen him imbibe alcohol in response to a stressful situation. Even then, the elder Radou's preferred beverages of choice are light sake or wine, because a proof too strong will aggravate his ulcer. What's in the bottle looks suspiciously like whiskey or cognac, both of which she's pretty sure pack a significant punch to the gut.

Worried, she stands in place for several minutes, not knowing what to do. Talking to Grandfather is out of the question. He'll either placate her with meaningless words or angrily shoo her away. She can't contact Makubex and ask him, because his information remains known to only a few people, none of whom happen to be her. Security precautions, she was told when she asked Grandfather.

Ren thinks some more. There is a roundabout way she can find out. She goes to her room and takes her radio out of its charger. Knight Toshiki had presented it as a gift to her recently so that she could keep in sporadic contact with him and Kazuki – due to the constantly shifting magnetic waves secreted by Mugenjou, cell phones tend to have an inconvenient habit of cutting out. Radios don't seem to be as affected, perhaps because they operate on their own signals instead of relying on a network carrier.

She dials the frequency, and waits for a response. If anyone should know, or be able to find out what might be going on, it will be Kazuki. Not for nothing is he known as the Threadmaster, when so many of his fingers can skillfully tap the unending strings of information embroidered throughout this world…and the other.

--

All it takes is a clipping of security wires, and the cameras that would have recorded his unauthorized entry and the alarms that would have announced it are rendered useless. Akabane slips inside the building as noiselessly as any ghost and locates the visitor's map directing him to the exhibit he's most interested in. They've changed the layout since last he was here, no doubt to try and purge the public's memory of the infamous discovery all those years ago. In time, remodeling has done for newer generations what no amount of cleanup could for those who remembered, and the museum has managed to attract steady patron revenues in spite of its notoriety in modern local history.

Anxiety aside, a part of him takes careful note of the renovations. Gouzou Maguruma will find his report interesting later on. As well he should. Akabane saved his life here that night.

The Egyptian wing has been reset, the artifacts rearranged into a visually pleasing display. Surprisingly, they haven't removed the statuary. Amazing, what a good chemical bath can do. None of the stains are remotely visible.

Akabane goes directly to the largest of these and pauses before it. A part of him expects to feel something, a little tremor of recognition, or perhaps reticence, but nothing comes. Finding himself unsure of the proper conduct to take, he reverts to uttering a soft prayer from his youth, impulsively making the sign of the Christian cross as if in genuflection at an altar.

One could take it as such, considering that this place was his baptism in first blood. He pictures the statue as it was then, form splattered with the ooze of a fresh fight, its offerings lying in crumpled disassembly with their eternal gazes fixed upon their underworld guide. He goes by many names and has many forms, but in this pantheon he is known as Anubis-Anpu, the Watcher of the Night, He who ferries the dead to their final accounting before the Lord of the Great Halls, Asar-Osiris.

Akabane remembers suddenly looking up after cutting down the last enemy, and receiving the distinct impression that the god had been _judging_ him, taking a measured satisfaction from the sacrifice.

Such tithing, however, exacts a price of its own. In stepping into the crossroads and accepting this mantle of escort conferred upon him by Anpu, Akabane has also tacitly agreed that his own life is forfeit, subject to heavier weighing when at last it becomes his turn to cross over and stand before those scales. The prospect neither pleases nor displeases him. It's all a part of the covenant, after all, and a true professional honors what bargains he makes – especially when those contracts are written in blood.

Akabane comes closer. The statue is more than twice his height, being carved from stone as ancient as the sands from whence it was fashioned. The granite is rough, pitted, its skin having weathered the passage of time with remarkable strength. Anpu's face was not quite as fortunate, a part at the end of his snout having chipped off so that it appears as if the god is exposing a bemused smile, or perhaps a fanged snarl.

Akabane likes to think that it is both – a gentlemanly acknowledgement of kindred…and a warning to those who would tread foolishly upon the crossroads of the Guardian.

"I suppose it would be a rather presumptuous request at this hour," he says aloud, gazing up at the inscrutable patron, "but, perchance, might you be kind enough to spare a bit of shelter for a weary traveler?"

Anpu says nothing. He doesn't need to. With him, what's often more important is what is _not_ said rather than what is. Akabane bows his head, deferring to the unspoken answer, and takes refuge at the base of the figure as he rests his forehead on his folded arms and ponders his dilemma.

He doesn't remember dozing off. But he must have. Perhaps he's just so lost in thought that he barely notices how much time passes, and when a shadow off to the side eventually stirs and approaches him, Akabane resigns himself to the inevitable discovery.

"Had a feeling I'd find you here," Ban says in a neutral tone. "Nice touch, knocking out those guards with Himiko's sleep scent. How'd you get her to share?"

Akabane doesn't look up at him. "I asked her."

The scowl is evident in Ban's voice. "How come she'll grant you favors but not me?"

"I asked her nicely," Akabane replies, without a trace of scorn.

They fall into silence, until Ban stoops on bended knee in front of him. "I get worried, you know, when I come home and you're not there like you say you'll be," he says quietly. "I think we need – "

" – to talk," Akabane finishes, before he realizes that his lover also has something of importance to share. He looks up from beneath the brim of his hat, trying to keep his surprise hidden. "You first," he says.

"You had anything to eat yet?" Ban asks.

Akabane shakes his head.

"We'll go downtown."

"Not there," Akabane says quietly. "In private. Please?"

After a moment, Ban nods. "We can get something to go." He looks closer at Akabane and gestures at his hand. The padding of bandages beneath the glove is obvious, even in the dim glow of nightlights on the walls. "That have anything to do with the dead laptop I found in the trash?"

Akabane slowly peels off the glove and unwraps the bandaging. The inside layers are caked with dried scabs of brownish blood. He flexes his hand, the skin marred now only by its starburst scar in the center. Out of habit, he extends his scalpels, fingers curling over slightly in battle reflex, but makes no move to deploy his weapons. He wills them into retreat, and starts a little when Ban gently takes hold of his hand.

"Too bad you can't kill spam that way. I bet computer kid would read you the riot act for wasting a perfectly good machine," the other man says with a hint of wry amusement.

The corners of Akabane's lips twitch, but he resists the smile. Willing his eyes to meet Ban's, he says softly, "Makubex-kun is the reason for that destroyed laptop."

Something flickers in Ban's eyes, but he makes no comment. He squeezes Akabane's bare hand before letting go and standing up. "We'll talk about it over a bowl of Paul's best. Nobody can think on an empty stomach, least of all me."

--

Not for nothing has Paul Wan acquired his reputation as the perfect confidante. Shopkeepers, much like their bartending brethren, have a talent for coaxing forth even the most stubborn of closed mouths, and then quietly absorbing everything into percolation until such time as information becomes needed. When he sees a subdued Ban and Akabane enter his establishment this late, he silently puts on a fresh pot of coffee and goes into the kitchen to heat up the stove. The tab will just have to wait.

Ban plops on the nearest stool and places their order once Paul returns, while Akabane withdraws his pocketbook from his coat and proffers the required payment. Paul accepts it without his customary wisecrack about Ban's stinginess and tells them their meals will be ready shortly, then, tacking on as an offhanded note, "I have some work to do in the basement. If you two want to stick around it's fine. Just let me know when you leave so I can lock up." He goes to the front door and turns the "open" sign around, now denoting that the Honky Tonk is officially closed for the evening.

Ban waits until the food has been served and Paul has disappeared to the lower storeroom levels before opening up the conversation. He takes an impossibly huge bite of his sandwich and says simultaneously, "I malked mif Makumex tonight. Kid had some innerefting mings to say."

Akabane tenses, his back stiffening. He sips his spoonful of soup carefully before answering. "What did he tell you?"

Ban swallows his chunk of food. "How far back do you and Babylon City go, Akabane?"

A peculiar numbness takes over Akabane's insides. He feels quite like the proverbial deer trapped in the blinding glare of an oncoming car's headlights. "Far enough," he says in measured tones.

Ban doesn't seem terribly surprised. "I figured as much," he says evenly. "Did you know they were using Doctor Jackal as one of their pawns?"

Akabane pushes his soup away; he isn't hungry any more. He folds his gloved hands in his lap and looks at the counter. "The thought had occurred to me on more than one occasion, yes." He slips out a scalpel and begins to slowly turn it over in his fingers. "What are you getting at?"

Ban wolfs down the last of his sandwich and starts in on his soup. "Take that umbrella off. This ain't no friggin' Wizard of Oz setup. I like being able to see who I'm talking to."

Akabane lifts his head, eyes narrowing.

Ban growls. "I'm not mad at you, Kuroudo. I just want to know what the hell's going on."

"So do I," Akabane says. But he complies with his lover's request and takes down his hat, setting it aside.

"Thank you. That's better," Ban tells him as he slurps away the last of his soup. "You gonna finish that?"

"You may have it," Akabane says, nudging his half-eaten bowl towards him, as well as the sandwich sitting untouched on his plate.

Ban doesn't gulp it down right away. He raises a brow at Akabane. "You sure? It's good…"

"It's all right."

Shrugging, Ban devours the leftovers in short order. "What'd Makubex say to you that's got you whacking laptops now? You didn't even give it the badge of dishonor."

Akabane toys with his knife some more. He feels naked without his hat, so he bows his head, letting his hair hide his face in its shadows. He licks his lips, pausing on the words as he forms them, unsure of how to break the news. "You know about magic, don't you, Midou-kun?"

The wariness is immediate. "What kind of magic?"

"It has standard as well as arcane uses, actually," Akabane says. "But I suppose to a layman, it would all seem the same."

"So spit it out already. Don't dance around the subject with flowery language. I hate that shit."

Very well. Akabane sighs. "Blood magic."

That gets Ban's undivided attention. He drops the partially-gnawed roll he'd been working on and stares. "What sort of blood magic are we talking about here?"

"Life," Akabane says, hesitating, "and death." He waits as he gauges the other's reaction; Ban's alert but calm posture lets him know to continue. "In surgery, a lot depends on the patient's blood. Infections can sicken and kill. Not enough blood available during transfusions, and a patient dies on the operating table from lack of circulation. Too much uncontained and they will bleed to death through open wounds."

He glances at the scalpel still resting in his fingers. He begins turning it over again. "Yet this endless river is what keeps humans alive. Blood brings renewal through the forming of new cells to take the places of those that die, and it helps to transport harmful materials out of the body by fighting infections."

"But not all of them," Ban says. "Some infections are blood-based. And if you're talking transfusions, you need the right blood type, or the incompatibility can kill too."

"Yes," Akabane nods, somewhat reassured to note that his lover's thoughts are on the same wavelength as his own. "That was one of the reasons the experiment was proposed. Even those that purport to be gods still require modern medicine, after all."

"Doled out under restrictions, I'm sure," Ban mutters, thinking of Lower Town's less than fortunate denizens.

"I had nothing to do with its implementation," Akabane says, hating the nearly imperceptible note of desperation that sneaks into his voice. Part of him expects to be disbelieved, and he tightens his hand around the scalpel. "It wasn't even my idea. They used my work, but they didn't involve me until the actual testing." His gaze falls momentarily. "That was how we discovered my ability to produce these." He lifts the scalpel into view.

Ban reaches out, running his fingers over the flat of the shining blade. "I guess that explains the one hundred and eight theory," he muses.

"The forms come with practice," Akabane explains softly. "I'm best with blades, as you've noticed. But I'm not limited to that template. So long as I have a source material, I can replicate a perfect pattern of anything solvent."

Ban nods, still eyeing the scalpel thoughtfully. "Computer kid's been tapping into the Archive again. Much as I admire his brass, he's asking for it, poking his nose into their party favors. People like that don't like sharing." He sighs and rubs his forehead.

"The project was never finished," Akabane says, his eyes revealing a rare hollowness. "It was supposed to have been canceled after the…after an…accident that took place. But someone decided to keep it active. I don't know why." A bitter chord makes his voice tremble a little. "You'd think the successors would have learned from a bloody lesson."

Ban studies him. "You know the people who were responsible?"

Akabane shakes his head. "Even if they were willing, the original leaders couldn't tell us anything. They're dead." He pauses, and adds flatly, "I killed them. All but one, and that person survived only because she wasn't there at the time." He feels a sudden burn in his eyes, and looks away, unwilling to concede to the defeat of tears.

Silence, broken only by the intermittent hum of the shop's ventilation system, reigns steady for a while. Ban resumes polishing off the remains of food, while Akabane broods over the possible ramifications of his confession. Eventually Ban speaks.

"You think whoever's mucking with this blood experiment will try to screw with you again?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't put it past them at this point." Akabane puts the single scalpel back in place and clutches his hands together to keep from further fidgeting. "I think Kyouji Kagami knew, or suspected some association." He forces himself to look at Ban without betraying any sign of emotion. "He asked me if I would consider going back to the City."

Ban steeples his fingers together in a pyramid as he leans on the counter surface. "Damn meddlesome bar host."

"I made it quite clear to him," Akabane says, his tone slipping into frigidity as he clenches one hand around a bundle of half-emerging knives, "that I was no longer interested in any such offer."

Ban lights up a cigarette and takes a long, easy drag on it, waving his hand to disperse the smoke. They sit in more gloomy silence for a while.

"Let's not worry about it until something happens," he says at last. "Till then, there's not much we can do, is there?"

Akabane looks up in barely concealed surprise. "I thought you'd be more upset," he says hesitantly.

Ban looks at him. "I don't like what Jackal does. You know that. I also can't stand these Brain Trust assholes any more than you do. Whatever happened…I'm sure you had your reasons." He looks out the window, into the fathomless night. "God knows I had mine…" He breaks off his muttered thought and looks back to Akabane. "What's the deal with the museum?"

"You haven't heard the rumors?" Akabane tilts his head in mild curiosity. It's practically legend among those in the transporting business. "That was where Doctor Jackal first appeared."

Ban swivels around and sits with his legs propped on the lower bars of Akabane's seat, one arm resting on the countertop. "I'm game for the story." He stubs out the dwindled butt in his fingers and lights another.

"Very well." Akabane combs a lock of hair away from his eyes, tucking it behind his ear. "Gouzou Maguruma and I had known each other for a while, and he invited me to ride with him on several transport runs when I expressed interest in finding new employment. He said if I liked it he would teach me how the transporting business works."

He shrugs. "It was decent at first, although mostly I just sat and watched. Rather boring, at that. But I was glad enough for the distraction it provided. After the war…after I left Babylon," he says, voice lowering to a near-whisper briefly before picking up again, "I didn't want to return to the medical profession."

Akabane's eyes drop to his hands again. "Everyone in the business has their own identifying handle that they operate under. Maguruma, as you know of course, is 'No-Brakes.' Typically, a transporter doesn't become listed until after he or she has successfully completed a series of solo runs. It proves to clients that they are dependable on the job."

"Like gangsters have their 'made' men carry out hits in rites of passage," Ban says.

"Something like that," Akabane agrees, a hint of a smile in his eyes as he looks at his lover. "Since I had no prior experience under my belt, Gouzou said he would call me 'the doctor' because of my background. Hardly anyone uses their real name, you see."

"In such an esteemed, respectable service like underworld transporting? I can't imagine why not," Ban drawls, and they both chuckle over his sarcasm.

"He had an annoying habit of shortening it to 'Doc' in those days," Akabane says, wrinkling his nose.

"'Doc'?" Ban laughs. "I like that!"

"Honestly, Midou-kun. It's undignified! Do I look like a 'Doc' to you?"

"No, you look like an 'Aka-chan'." Ban grins rakishly and reaches over to tousle Akabane's hair. "Or a 'Bane-tan'."

"Midou-kun!" The scolding isn't as harsh as it sounds, for as much as he isn't keen on being teased out of his blue mood, Akabane can't help but appreciate his lover's attempt at comfort. He gives in and offers a small conciliatory smile. "I'd expect that sort of immaturity from Ginji-kun."

He clears his throat softly as a cue to bring them back to the topic of discussion. "Where was I? Oh yes – one night we were assigned a delivery at the museum. Maguruma told me to wait inside the truck and he would go pick up the item. It was quite a while for him to return, and I got tired of waiting, so I decided to go see what was taking so long." Akabane's brows pinch in memory. "As luck would have it, he'd been ambushed inside by a rival transport gang that called themselves the Black Widows."

"Ahhh," Ban says. "I think I remember hearing about those guys." He blows a puff of smoke into a ring and watches it float across the room. Then he snaps his fingers. "_Now_ I know why Ginji was always complaining about ghosts when we went there once!" His eyes shift to Akabane. "Spiritual residue is harder to get rid of than soldered gum."

"But you haven't heard the whole story," Akabane says. "The Widows were upset because they felt that this particular job had been promised to them by the client. That was why their leader had taken Maguruma prisoner. He would have been killed if I hadn't come to investigate his absence."

His eyes close momentarily. "I'll never forget the tension I encountered. I was in a…strange…place, unlike anything I'd ever felt before, and – I remember feeling the blades in my veins for the first time, becoming attuned to them in a way I'd never experienced before." He opens them and flicks a now-neutral gaze out the front window.

Ban frowns. "How'd you take out a whole group by yourself? I assume back then you were still learning the gist of using scalpels in a non-medical environment."

Akabane lifts his chin in subtle pride. "I did rather well for a beginner. When we were stationed together Semimaru taught me some basic sparring. It was only a matter of incorporating the use of blades into those maneuvers."

"Even so, an entire army of yakuza-backed agents? I mean, how many of those guys were there, eight? Ten?"

"Twelve," Akabane lightly corrects him. "But you are forgetting my unique abilities. They had knives too, but compared with me, they weren't very good with them." He takes one of Ban's hands and traces his fingers. "A common mistake inexperienced knife-fighters make is in using the end of the blade for their attack, and they tend to wield the weapon in long sweeping arcs. But that's only good for certain circumstances. The side of the knife is often what does the most damage in a fight, and it ought to be handled the way you manipulate your fighting prowess: short, sharp cuts, quickly, like the strike of a snake."

"You have too much free time on your hands," Ban mutters.

Akabane ignores the slight. "Medical school teaches students the proper way to hold a scalpel. You need a praying mantis grip," he says, demonstrating as he unsheathes a knife and presents it. "This technique lets the blade do the work, and you don't waste precious energy expending unnecessary strength."

"I guess that makes sense," Ban says. "In a very twisted, screwed-up alternate dimension sort of way."

The scalpel retreats neatly with the barest of whispers. "It worked," Akabane replies with a little shrug. "We got our cargo safely, Maguruma survived, and…I found my new calling."

"I'm not sure I grasp the name part of it though," Ban says.

Akabane smiles gently. "The area where the battle took place was the wing of the Egyptian exhibit. They've rearranged everything since then. That statue I was sitting by was the very same one featured in the news coverage. They said the carnage done was fit for carrion-eaters." He reaches up to adjust his hat, remembers he's not wearing it, and lays his hand over his chest instead. "You know what Anpu's function is, don't you?"

"Guardian of the crossroads between life and death, holy embalmer and one of the attendants who measures the heart in the Great Halls of Asar-Osiris, Lord of the Dead," Ban answers. "But I doubt that jackal ever took to _making_ corpses as opposed to merely wrapping and escorting them."

"But it has a memorable ring to it, no?" Akabane pauses. "The Js came later, after I'd adapted and refined my technique."

Ban sighs in resigned amusement. "You need a new hobby, Akabane."

Akabane just smiles patiently. "I appreciate your concern, Midou-kun. However, I assure you, there's no need for it. This is the path I chose."

"I worry about you," Ban tells him quietly.

Purple eyes grow tender with mist. "I like being worried over by you. But you don't have to be so concerned over this – "

Ban interrupts. "Yes I do. That's what you do, when you care about somebody else. I know sometimes you can't help it – those idiots that hired us for the IL. The others you've offed have been bad apples too in one way or another, but most of them probably weren't past total derangement. In passing that judgment on them, you're denying them _their_ free will to make their own choices."

Akabane is confused. "I don't pass any judgment. It matters not to me how others live, or receive their daily satisfaction. I don't belittle or mock their shortcomings, whatever those may be. I'm certainly not so uncouth as to engage in torture. Why is that improper? The point of a battle is to determine each other's strength, push each other's limits. If death happens to be the outcome of an uneven match, so be it."

Ban looks sadly at him. "You can defeat someone and still learn something important about yourself without killing. Oftentimes you can do it without even fighting at all."

Akabane's brows furrow intently as he watches the other man, trying to grasp the concept of what Ban is saying. "I don't understand, Midou-kun."

"Sometimes, neither do I, Jackal." Ban smiles wan defeat in this verbal exchange, having noticed that his cigarette has burnt itself out and there's no more food to consume. "Come on. Let's go home."

--

The cats are there to greet them on arrival, though they only hang around long enough to garner the appropriate attention and then they scurry off to parts unknown, sensing that their human companions require time alone to sort out their puzzling issues. The unexpected demise of Akabane's laptop is still fresh to Medusa.

Both men are quiet as they enter their bedroom. Ban flops on the bed and kicks off his boots, which land with muffled thumps as he's pulling off his shirt. Akabane hangs his clothes in the closet as he always does before changing into pajamas. Another framed photograph on the dresser catches his eye, and he leaves off removing his trousers as he goes to pick it up.

It's not one of his favorites. Though their poses are innocent – Ban perched on the hood of his car, Akabane standing demurely next to him, one arm around Ban's shoulders – there's a singular element of childishness that Akabane finds inappropriate and completely unsuitable for the occasion of the picture. They'd been celebrating a successful joint venture, one in which both retrievers and transporters were necessary, and Akabane, eyes still looking towards the camera, had turned slightly to murmur something into his lover's ear – what, he doesn't remember now – and Ban had taken that opportunity to reach around unbeknownst to Akabane and add a pair of 'rabbit ears' to the back of his head.

Both Get Backers found this quite amusing at the time, naturally; Akabane not so much. He'd made certain later on that they both went away _thoroughly_ instructed as to how to take a proper photograph and the correct conduct for posing in such. To this day Ginji is first to pass the camera to someone else during the rare instance Ban asks for a picture to be taken.

Akabane is unaware of the tiny smile that softens his face as he looks upon this breach of etiquette. Is it really so weak to permit such silly indulgences? They seem so…suitably human…

He's never understood this kind of camaraderie, not even with his associates Mr. No-Brakes and Lady Poison, not even with his friend Kanade Semimaru, despite getting on well with all. Akabane has never been able to comprehend these strange emotions that make humans bond with each other, never quite grasped the paradoxes behind their inspiration. He's certainly not familiar with ever having been a real part of them…until now.

Rejection is something he does know, and he's even occasionally taken pains to cultivate it when he knows it will suit his purposes. But rejection is a two-edged sword: it hurts when it's genuinely applicable, and Akabane, no matter how much he might deny it, still feels the acute burn of that cut when it's made by the few people in this world whose existences he desires to share.

What he'd felt in the café when Ban had expressed his displeasure over Jackal's line of reasoning…

Shame is something new to him, and even before it's nipped at the fringes of his thoughts it annoys him greatly, for it brings to mind its cousin remorse. He's boasted of never having regrets…it would be most discomforting to have to change that this late in the game.

His first instinct is to chase the troublesome feeling away, take a stab in the dark at it so it will bother him no more, but try as he might it's a persistent devil. Akabane continues to feel the insistent nudge of an idea that he ought to make this right, but he knows not exactly how just yet, and so resorts to the simpler and perhaps baffling impulse to apologize – though for what, he isn't sure either.

"Midou-kun, I – "

Ban is there before he knows it, coming up to Akabane and putting a finger to his lips as he takes the picture from his hands and replaces it on the dresser. "No more words tonight. Just you and me."

Confused, Akabane tries again to explain, but further attempts at conversation are thwarted by Ban's kiss, and with some manipulation and last shedding of clothing, they make a natural progression to bed, where they can speak in intimate languages better understood.

Hours later Akabane is still lying awake, tormented by restless thoughts and the nagging in his own heart. He senses Ban is feigning sleep as well, even though their backs are turned to each other. Akabane gathers courage and speaks.

"I keep thinking about Makubex-kun."

A heavy sigh issues from the other side of the bed. "Got a helluva way of springing bad news on people, doesn't he?"

"He can only work with what he's given. He isn't doing this to be antagonistic."

"Could've fooled me."

"He helped us, you know."

"Oh?"

"He told me once of a plot against your life. Had I not received such information in time, I wouldn't have been able to deal with it."

The frown underscores Ban's reply. "How many corpses did it take?"

"It didn't take any. Though I would have enjoyed that, I admit. But not for the reasons you're thinking of." Part of Akabane wants to be irked by the suggestion that he can't entirely control his bloodthirsty impulses, but the other half of him hasn't the strength to bother, and his old enemy guilt rears its head to taunt him with this failure. "I wanted to keep you safe…" He blinks, feeling that most unwelcome sting in his eyes again. "You're important to me."

There's a rustle of bedcovers as Ban rolls over and squirms closer, against Akabane's back. His breath warms the exposed skin of his shoulder as he speaks. "Go on."

Akabane doesn't look at him. He's concentrating on reigning in his turbulent emotions. "What?"

"You were going to ask me if I considered you as important to me."

Akabane's lips part to automatically deny this, but he cannot make himself form the lies. There is too much between them now for them to treat their relationship with such blatant disregard. He swallows the bitter lump down, holding back a wince as it knocks hard against the sides of his throat.

"I know that you feel something…special, for me, in your own way. But I also know that I cannot compete with what you feel for Ginji-kun. I don't blame either of you. I understand now, I think. If this lot is to be my fate, then I accept it, and will content myself with what I have. Perhaps that is all any of us…all _I_…can ever ask for…" He closes his eyes as he falls silent, unable to continue for fear of losing himself to the threatening tide.

Ban is quiet for a minute or two. He rises up on one arm and leans over Akabane, his voice low. "I wouldn't have gone to these lengths if I thought any lesser of you, you know. I feel the way I do about Ginji because he's my best friend. He was there for me at a time when I needed him most and didn't know it, and I only hope that I've been able to give him something precious in return."

He strokes his lover's face, coaxing Akabane to look at him. "What I feel for you is in no way negated by that. You may not be the same thing as him, but that doesn't mean you're somehow worth less. You're still something important to me, someone I want in my life. Different doesn't always mean bad."

Akabane considers this. "What does it mean, then?"

Ban smiles, though his eyes remain serious. "It means you're my Jackal. Nothing can ever change that. No one can take that from you, no matter what else you've lost."

"Sometimes I wonder. I may not turn out to be the person you thought I was," Akabane says, compelled to offer this warning as courtesy, at least. "Neither of us is any stranger to the terror of the grave."

Ban doesn't seem concerned about this. "It's okay to be afraid," he says. "Fear isn't always weakness. Sometimes it's common sense, too."

Something else interesting to examine, Akabane thinks. "Do you suppose Makubex-kun is afraid? Afraid of losing his reason for existing…"

Ban nods. "That's why he concocted that asinine stunt with the bomb."

"Perhaps he feels alive, too, with the people that are important to him. That's what he wants most, to transcend a world of indifferent death. What difference does it make if that death is erased data or bloody flesh?" Akabane thinks that the dam can no longer hold, waits for hot rivers to wash anew over his face as he closes his eyes again, but surprisingly, the flood never comes. "That's all I wanted too…"

Ban rolls him over and pulls him close, tucking his face against his neck while he rubs his back. Akabane clings tightly to him, unwilling to surrender this last piece of heaven for the abandonment that is more familiar to him. For the first time in his life, he is only too aware of that cold void which awaits all, the deafening aloneness of not even being able to trust in one's own strength to see the long night through. The thought of it frightens even more than it angers him to his very core.

Death is the ultimate intangible enemy, oft-challenged but always unbeatable, and it has dogged his heels from the very moment he first drew breath upon the earth. Hadn't others said that he was destined to remain its agent? If it is inevitable, what use is there to fight against such relentlessness that cares not if mortals live or perish?

But if there is some secret to everlasting life, some elixir capable of transcending the incalculable sorrow of such loss…Akabane can't help but feel that maybe…just maybe…the Get Backers have discovered it – even if they themselves aren't fully aware of it. Possibly this is the one thing truly worth fighting for, something with a value beyond that of transitory pleasure. The notion is intriguing, even if it continues to puzzle and irritate him.

Ban seems to understand his dilemma, and he keeps Akabane close, a silent reassurance that when the time comes he won't have to face that dreadful fall by himself. He's been through these crosshairs himself and knows what it's like to stare down death – literally.

Akabane's world now consists of warm, living flesh, of blood and beat and strength he can trust in, a foundation to center and hold him steady. He presses his face against Ban's skin and inhales deeply the scent he knows to be his lover's. This is life, here, and a sudden and shocking broadside of fierce devotion seizes his heart in a vise and nearly robs the breath from him.

"You're digging again." Ban eases their embrace and lightly takes hold of Akabane's wrists to remind him not to knead the points of his scalpels into Ban's skin as he's clutching him.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Akabane gazes into his lover's eyes, fascinated by the eternal blue he sees there. He feels as though he could drown in it and still pulse with the vibrancy of life energy. An impulse leaps from his tongue. "This isn't a dream…is it, Ban-kun?"

"No. This is," Ban says, and the next blink of his eyes has the both of them in a golden field, watching Ginji laugh and dance about plucking sunflowers, which he throws high in the air with all the glee of one truly joyful to be alive.

He comes running to them, squashing Ban in a monster hug, and then surprises Akabane by doing the exact same thing to him instead of offering his usual response when confronted with the transporter's presence. Akabane has never known exactly why Ginji's screaming and running away in fear always hurt deep down inside, but…it did, and to be presented with this kind of welcome for a change gives him a little warming thrill, even if he knows it's not real. Awkwardly, because he isn't used to responding in kind, he wraps his arms around this Ginji and hugs back.

"This is fun, huh Ban-chan, Akabane-san?"

"Yes," Akabane says, hoping that they will chat some more, and is disappointed when dream-Ginji backs away, though this time his withdrawal stems from prioritizing.

"Play nice, you two," the blond mirage says with a wink and waggle of finger pointed at them. "You belong together."

He disappears – to where, Akabane isn't sure because the dreamscape has changed, and now he and Ban are alone, sitting in the middle of a forest with a small lake nearby. Ban is dressed in ceremonial garb, and when Akabane looks down at himself he realizes he's attired in something similar. This shall be their bower, their sacred gift to one another, and this time is theirs, precious to spend as they will.

Akabane feels something leap in his chest, and he leans forward at about the same time Ban is doing likewise. But before they can consummate their union, the Jagan is over with – although they're still kissing in real time.

Blinking away the dream-dust, Akabane regards his lover with polite curiosity. "That's a very nice dream."

"It doesn't have to be just a dream. We could make it reality."

"Do you think so?"

"I _know_ so."

They curl together in restful watch, and Akabane wonders if he might finally have found a reason to believe again. He thinks some more, and after a while entices Ban into fresh conversation.

"About Makubex-kun… I wonder why he stays. Even though he controls the Lower Town with Ginji-kun's blessing, I don't think he's very happy, living in Mugenjou."

Ban fights a yawn and loses. "I don't think anybody living there is, Kuroudo. It's just the way the place is."

"Yes," Akabane says, thinking on the strange miasma of despair and energy that pervades the area. "But he wanted to change that. He dreams large for one so young. But he hasn't any idea how to make those wishes come true."

"Most people don't," Ban says. "They aren't encouraged to dream. Dreamers sow the seeds of rebellion. To the gods of Babylon City, that's the most intolerable thing they can imagine. As it is with all dictators. Taking away the hope that people find in dreams makes it easier to tame a population."

"Rebellion isn't always such a terrible thing, though," Akabane says, the roots of an idea beginning to shape in his mind.

"True." Ban unleashes another yawn and settles against the pillow some more. "Speaking of which, I gotta get some shuteye. My body's decided to stage its own coup." He draws the covers up around them, nestling Akabane against the side of his body. "Mmm. 'Night, Jackal."

"Good night."

Akabane rests his cheek on Ban's shoulder but doesn't go to sleep right away. He lies still and silent, turning over various thoughts. He lifts a spread palm, silhouetted against the faint glow of outside streetlights streaming in from the window. The starburst scar appears more vivid than usual, but it's just the contrasting effects of shadows and light. Akabane's fingers curve half-over and four bright slivers shoot into sight.

He studies these blades for a while, turning them this way and that, noting with absent interest how the light glints and flashes along their unforgiving edges. They are truly the perfect weapons, lacking only desire and will to fulfill their purpose. He sends them into withdrawal, then lets them emerge again, then pulls them back, and extends them again.

This back-and-forth ceases at length, when the drowsiness of settling calculations overtakes Akabane and he has decided upon an acceptable course of action. Now that he has made his decision he dwells no more upon his earlier anxieties, and he closes his eyes after disengaging his knives one last time, wraps his arms around Ban, and drifts peacefully onto that cloud of contented slumber.

--

"Hey, Ban-chan."

Ban is tempted to ignore his partner's inquiry, but doing so will only prolong the agony. He offers a noncommittal grunt by way of reply as they watch the traffic on the street below buzz by. It's been another hard day for the Get Backers, without a job or a yen to show for it.

"Are you okay? You seem kinda quiet lately." Ginji's eyes are uncharacteristically somber, but then he can't help but pick up on the moods of those closest to him.

Ban watches an ant trudge its way steadily along the sidewalk, debating whether to answer honestly or not. He decides on not – no point in upsetting Ginji. _Or Raitei,_ he thinks, suppressing a shiver at the memory of Makubex's revelation. In a way he isn't too surprised, because it follows the theories he's formulated. But knowing what he knows of magical matters, and the type of possession involved, his instincts are telling him there's bad trouble ahead on the horizon. How many more walking wounded are out there, and what kind of parasites do they harbor?

He shoves the worrisome thoughts away and forces a calm smile for his partner's benefit. "I'm just thinking over some stuff," he says at last. "I've got a lot on my plate, you know, what with our jobs and this Europe trip coming up…"

Ginji isn't fooled, but he chooses to play along anyway, if only to make Ban feel better. "Yeah, you've been really busy, Ban-chan. Maybe we should take a day or two off, go to the hot springs with Hevn-san and Natsumi-chan and Rena-chan! Or the beach, even…"

"Maybe. I'll think about it," Ban says. Then, to head off any further conversation, he abruptly stands back from where he's been leaning against the guardrail, and tells Ginji, "I'll be right back. Gonna go drain the lizard," he says, with a thumb-jerk towards the nearby public restrooms.

"Okay."

Inside the men's restroom Ban takes a quick look around to be sure he's alone. Privacy assured, he sighs heavily and takes up position in front of the closest urinal. He's almost done when he feels the unmistakable tickle of someone else's breath against his ear.

"Boo."

"What the – _dammit!_" Ban curses a fluent string of mixed languages while he checks to see if he's gotten any mess on him. Whether by chance or design, he was able to finish without splashing anything around, so he hits the flush lever and storms over to the sink to wash his hands. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

The laughing specter shakes his head fondly. "Ah, give me a break. A man's gotta entertain himself somehow."

"In the public toilets? You're a damn pervert, you know that?" Ban growls, dousing his soapy hands under the water.

The other man sweeps his arm out as he bows. "Like son, like father."

He can't argue that. Glowering at Der Kaiser, Ban turns off the water faucet and flicks his sopping hands at the navy-suited figure. The droplets pass through Kaiser's form as seamlessly as if he isn't there – which is actually the truth: ghosts know few boundaries limiting their passage from one realm to the next.

"What do you want?"

Kaiser clucks his tongue. "That's hardly a way to speak to your _vater._ I know I raised you better than that."

"Did you?" Ban asks caustically as he searches for the paper towel dispenser and rips off a whole line of them.

"Okay, so maybe I didn't." The elder shrugs and leans one shoulder against the wall while he watches his son dry his hands. "Cut me a break, Ban. There were other things going on that you didn't know about – "

" – one of which is planning to bite a chunk out of my ass when I'm least expecting it, thanks to all your pals from Babylon Tower," Ban snaps, throwing the used wad of towels at the garbage can and missing. "Did it ever, just once, occur to you that bargaining with the Beltline was maybe the worst possible way of handling the situation?"

Kaiser's eyes – a wealthy blue the same as his son's – turn rigid. "All right. I'll give you that one. There's a fair amount of truth in it, I admit. But that doesn't change the fact that I still loved you and your mother. Everything I did, every plan I've ever made, has always been calculated with the two of you in mind."

"You shouldn't have bothered," Ban says bluntly. "Mom sure didn't," he adds bitterly.

"You know damn well that isn't the reason," Kaiser says coolly, standing away from the wall now. "Frankly, I can't say that I blame her myself, for reacting the way that she did. But that's my fault, not yours. I wasn't honest with her from the start like I should have been and I regret it. If I'd been less of a gutless wonder at the time I'd have laid it all on the line for her straight out, told her about our heritage, the Aesclepius – "

Ban feels his right arm muscles tighten impulsively. He settles for shoving his hands in his pants pockets, grasping onto his lighter for a distraction.

" – if she'd had a chance to see the reality of our bloodline as opposed to believing all the psychotic crap fed to her, she might not have taken it so badly," Kaiser is finishing.

"But she did. That's the truth of the matter," Ban says, jabbing a finger at the spirit of his long-dead father. "And you weren't there when she decided to take matters into her own hands and try and drown me like a rat in the bathtub one morning. Who do you think you are that you can just walk back into my life and pretend like we had some good old times, the fuckin' ghost of Christmas past?"

Kaiser smiles, but his eyes do not. "No," he says smoothly. "I'm the ghost of shut the fuck up and pay attention if you want to stay alive, kid. Babylon thinks they can crack those gates through sheer force. And you know something? They're right. All they need is one perfect sliver to wedge the door open."

He steps closer to Ban, who, though he hates himself for giving in to the urge, automatically backs away. But for a few minor details – Kaiser wears his hair down; Ban prefers to spike his, Kaiser's nose is slightly longer and he's taller than Ban (which pisses Ban off to no end); Ban dresses casual while his father flaunts his impeccable taste – it's like looking into a mirror of himself, a mirror that hints at things he could or could not become…all given the tilt of the balancing act.

Kaiser's smile is decidedly sinister. "Maybe it'll be you. You've got the power of the Serpent Bearer, after all. Maybe it'll be someone else – like your walking-battery partner Ginji. Or perhaps they'll be creative…and pick somebody like a certain transporter – "

"No," Ban spits out in immediate denial, the possibility too horrifying for him to even consider when confronted directly with it. "Jackal knows too much. They wouldn't risk him. He's a part of it, I'd bet good money on that any day, but he's not one of the main players. It's something to do with me and Ginji, I know it."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. Then that goddamn Voodoo King blew a barn door out the back of my head," Kaiser replies, none too pleased, as he taps the back of his skull. "_Guter Christ,_ what a mess that was. Of course, Sarai apologized profusely afterwards, once he got back and had a look at the battlefield remains. He's a good guy, didn't mean anything by it. His other half's a bastard twice over, though."

"Tell me about it," Ban grimaces. "We've been playing tag with the King and his merry minions ever since Himiko's curse reared its ugly head. Don't even get me started on that," he says quickly with a slash of his hand to ward off any comments Kaiser might have on the subject.

His father seems to agree; he nods his head and approaches Ban again, but not as threatening as before. "Your computer egghead friend's angling for the same fate, or something similar, if he keeps up his antics. Not that I blame him for that either. But you know what they say about curiosity and those of the feline persuasion." Kaiser starts to rifle through the pockets of his suit jacket; coming up empty, he looks up at Ban. "Got a light for your dear 'ol dad?"

Wordlessly Ban withdraws his cigarettes and lighter and fires two of the sticks up. He passes one to Kaiser, who accepts it with a grateful nod and tokes deeply, eyes closing briefly as he savors the nicotine.

"Ahh. Contrary to popular belief, there _is_ a smoking section in heaven. Just not as big as I'd sometimes like," Kaiser chuckles. He spots the lighter just before Ban puts it away. "'KY'? I thought you were seeing a transporter, not a tube of ointment."

"Screw you," Ban answers. "It used to be Yamato's. You know, the plunderer I used to run with? Himiko's older brother."

"Ah. I remember him," Kaiser says. "Ran into him upstairs a while back. Can that boy win at cards, I tell you," he whistles appreciatively.

"Yamato used to work in a casino before he turned snatcher," Ban says. "He'd take the shirt off you in more ways than one if he could – and he could." He inhales another hit of nicotine. "Makubex knows the risks. He's had one run-in with Brain Trust that we know of. Kid has some balls, sticking his nose into the Archive a second time after they tried to kidnap and delete him."

"Like you wouldn't have done it if it'd been you in his place," Kaiser needles, a low laugh rolling on the end of his sentence.

"I'd have done it," Ban agrees, puffing on his cigarette and blowing a smoke ring into his father's face. "I just wouldn't have been so obvious about it. And I wouldn't get caught, either."

"You should be more grateful, then, for the danger he's courting on your behalf," Kaiser says, not so much as batting an eye at the smoke surrounding him. He draws firmly on his cigarette and gusts a spiraling serpent back at Ban. "It's not every day that you find out, thanks to a teenaged boy matching wits with a supercomputer and a rabid cabal, that you're dating a doctor _and_ a demigod at the same time."

Ban feels cold suddenly, and rubs his arms, reminded of the video he'd seen several days ago. He'd been almost as white-faced as Makubex upon seeing the way that Akabane became a perfectly blank host, triggered by the words voiced by the New Volts leader – words that, as fate would have it, are part of a spell embedded unbeknownst to him into his mind. "I almost can't believe it – "

"Pretty bizarre, eh," Kaiser says with a shade of sympathy before his voice turns ominous. "But that doesn't make it any less dangerous. You know that."

"Yeah," Ban sighs.

"So what are you going to do?"

"What else can I do? Deal with it." Ban scowls at the raised eyebrow his father gives him. "Look, there's got to be a way around it. I don't care to spend the rest of my life treading on thin ice wondering if Doctor Jackal or Mr. Hyde is going to be there to greet me when I come home at night."

Kaiser shrugs. "As a concerned parent, I'd suggest breaking it off entirely, but it's obvious you're smitten bad, so I guess it's a little late for that."

"You think?" Ban loads his reply with sarcasm.

Kaiser grins. "It was the same way for me and your mom. Love at first fight."

Ban holds back a laugh and partially succeeds; it comes out as a raspy cough. "Anyway, I couldn't break it off now even if I wanted to – which I don't, mind you. We've formed a spirit bond. If that connection gets tampered with it could kill one or even both of us." He notices his cigarette's about gone and tosses it to the floor, grinding the few smoldering embers to dust with his boot. "I'm well aware that Brain Trust could use that fact to screw with us, believe me."

Der Kaiser regards him thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side as he studies his only son, his pride, his heir. Finally he says, after relegating his crushed cigarette butt to the floor alongside Ban's, "In that case, my advice is to go see Maria. Yes," he presses in spite of Ban's repulsed glare. "You need somebody with firepower, kid, no matter how much you might think you can bust it alone. Trust me, I've been there, done that, got the shirt and the postcard and mailed 'em myself and all I got in return for my trouble was this lousy souvenir," Kaiser says as he turns around and points out what is now a gruesome open crater showcasing what's left of his cranium.

He turns back to face Ban and the wound has resealed itself without a trace of bloody evidence to suggest it was ever there. "I'm serious, Ban. Go to Maria. If anybody will know what to do, it'll be her. No one I know would fool with a Death Knell – well, no one with a functioning brain, that is," he adds with an evil smirk.

Ban considers this. His father has a point. If there's one person in all of Shinjuku who knows her magic, it's Maria Noches, former grandmistress apprentice to the infamous Witch Queen, last of the great witches of the twentieth century. He isn't thrilled by the thought of enduring one of Maria's flamboyant dinners, but at present, it's the only option he's got.

"I'll think about it," he concedes to his sire.

"Hn," Kaiser snorts, knowing that this is the best compromise he can get for now. He starts to say something more, but their conversation is interrupted by the door to the restroom flinging open and a harried-looking businessman rushing towards one of the urinals. While the man makes his deposit, Kaiser leans in closer to Ban.

"Keep me posted."

"Yeah," Ban mumbles, wishing his dad didn't get such a kick out of freaking mortals out sometimes. He hates looking stupid in front of other people and talking out loud to thin air guarantees more than a few odd stares from passerby.

Kaiser slaps him companionably on the back. "Tell Paulie I said hi, too. He still burying his nose in those newspapers of his?"

"Does he ever do anything else?"

Kaiser laughs. "Hey, now. Boy used to be prime trim in our day. Who do you think made the Get Backers' reputation as solid as it is? We didn't earn it from sitting around all day with our thumbs up our asses scribbling with crayons on posters, let me tell you that!"

"Listen, old man, I don't – " Ban breaks off as he realizes there's an unwelcome third pair of ears inviting themselves to the party. He turns and shoots the staring businessman a glare of pure acid. "What the fuck are you looking at?!"

Kaiser joins in, his growl only slightly less abrasive than his son's. "Yeah, what the fuck are you looking at, jackass? Piss off!"

The man can't see or hear him, of course; his wide-eyed jaw-dropping is for Ban's eyes only. But Der Kaiser is not without his considerable talents even in the netherworld, and he takes full advantage of them to send out an icy mental suggestion that perhaps it might not be such a bad idea to heed the wisdom of minding one's own business, a-s-a-p. Obediently, the man scuttles out the door of the restroom a second after he receives the impulse fired at him like a poison arrow.

"Look at that. Didn't even wash his hands after he flushed. He's probably looking at several million worth of microbes there from the door handle alone. You have any idea how foul that is?" Kaiser complains.

"Maybe he would've, if you'd given him enough time to do it before sending out your heebie-jeebie vibes," Ban says.

Kaiser grins unrepentantly. "I'm a dead man walking. Giving others heebie-jeebies is my job now."

"And cleaning up the confusion created by spooks like you is mine, so we're even," his son retorts.

"Nobody's perfect."

Father and son size each other up one more time, then by mutual unspoken agreement dissolve into shared laughter from the sheer absurdity of their encounter with the nosy businessman. In rolling with life's punches, sometimes it's best to just laugh as the blows come.

Eventually Kaiser's mirth settles, and he bums one more cigarette off Ban as he begins to vanish, his image steadily blurring with the smoke into a cloud that's indistinguishable from either ghostly ether or air pollution.

"Well, at least we can agree on one thing, kiddo."

"What's that?" Ban asks, watching his father retreat to the mysterious realm he now calls home instead of the Beltline.

Kaiser is smiling again, but his eyes tell a different story than his mouth. "Your grandmother sure fucked us up royally."

--

"So good of you to come, Doctor," the girl in the white dress says as her colleague enters the room. It's the weekend, and although activity in this place never ceases, it does tend to observe the scheduling rituals of its test subjects. She is gratified by his willingness to put in some overtime and meet with her even on what ought to be his day off; he is ever the professional who works hard.

"I thought it best, seeing as how I received your message. Was there something urgent you wished to share with me?"

"Nothing too pressing today," the girl says, watching him smooth a hand down the length of his white coat. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No thank you."

"As you wish. I only wanted to remind you of the upcoming layout our team had drawn up. I'd like to hear your thoughts on it when you've finished your review. If you have any suggestions, now is the time to relay them while we're still able to affect the outcome."

"Certainly."

She idly plays with the ear of the rabbit doll in her arms. "I should like to ask you once more. Are you certain you won't reconsider your objection to the director's opening? Your name was not submitted without due cause, I assure you."

"It would appear that such is not the path for me," Dr. Kuroudo Akabane says, shaking his head. "I appreciate the esteem, though."

Strategy is discussed briefly and plans are arranged, and then Akabane smiles a knifelike edge and asks, "Who reopened Lazarus?"

The girl stops in the act of pouring a cup of tea. As if she were a wind-up toy granted movement with the twist of a key, she lurches into action again, setting the cup down carefully on its saucer and turning to stare at him. "I beg your pardon?"

Akabane continues as smoothly as though nothing has happened. "As I understand, someone is playing a very dangerous game. Who is it?"

The girl's eyes crystallize into hard beads even as her voice remains level. "I am not privy to that information at this time. We are aware that the project has remained active indefinitely; however, for the time being, we do not have the luxury of making any adjustments, considering our investments elsewhere."

Akabane's smile folds into chilling focus. "I have investments I'd like to protect too. This game is fast ceasing to hold any future appeal for me. Before I set foot upon the chessboard, I want to know who has been loading the dice."

"So that you can eliminate them?" she asks without censure.

"A professional _always_ finishes his job."

"A professional also knows when to fall back and study the greater picture before engaging. You know as well as I do that certain liberties must be taken in order to fulfill the destiny as it was projected," she replies in tones sharp enough to match his.

"Liberties, yes. Interference I won't tolerate. They made their bed of thorns. Now let them lie in it." Akabane's eyes freeze over into glacial amethyst. "Tell them, Hakase-san. I've been patient, and I've been polite, and I've let their previous attempts off with nothing more than a stern warning." His voice hardens further, tongue slicing each word off with deadly precision. "This is officially the final one they'll have. After this it gets bloody."

The quiet following this frigid declaration is sharp enough to snap bones.

Akabane speaks again, his voice and smile returning to their typical graces. "I have another appointment I must keep, so if there is nothing further to discuss, I shall take my leave of you now. Do have a pleasant afternoon."

The girl in the white dress doesn't say anything as he exits her office, though the flat red of her pupil-less gaze roasts a hole in his back.

Later, Akabane meets up on the outskirts of Mugenjou with his escort, whom he's pleased to see has obeyed his strict instructions not to wander off and is sitting placidly on a concrete slab, amusing himself by conjuring static electricity to make various pieces of small refuse stick to him.

"I hope you weren't kept waiting too late, Ginji-kun."

Ginji shakes his head. "I didn't know you were gone that long." His concentration disrupted, the clinging items fall from his shirt to the ground. He gets up and walks – not too far from, but not too close either – beside the wraith of black coat that is Akabane.

"Well, it was a minor bit of business. Nothing very exciting," Akabane says cheerfully as the pair make their way through the mazes toward the Lower Town exits. "It was very kind of you to accompany me on this trip."

Ginji nods. "You look kind of happy, Akabane-san." His eyes narrow. "You didn't...have to do…anything…did you?"

Akabane smiles and pats his arm. "Not this time, Ginji-kun."

Ginji heaves audible relief. "Good." He pauses, and then asks, "How come you wanted me to come with you on a transport delivery, anyway?"

"I thought it would be a fun outing for you, seeing as how Midou-kun is off meeting with a client for the day," Akabane answers sweetly. "Besides, I enjoy the pleasure of your company."

Ginji looks surprised. "Really? But there's no battles around for you, and I thought you liked that sort of thing."

"Midou-kun says we don't have to battle to have a good time." An intrigued note hums in Akabane's throat as he muses. "I think, perhaps, he may be on to something." He looks up and smiles at Ginji. "How curious, don't you think? That I should be enjoying myself with you, and not a single act of aggression in sight from either of us."

Ginji brightens. "Yeah. Kind of like friends just hanging out."

Akabane stops suddenly, watching the blond Get Backer with hooded yet warming eyes. "Are we friends, Ginji-kun?" he asks softly.

Ginji hesitates, stopping and turning around to look at him. He tries not to take too long to think the question over, knowing the other man's predilection for impatience. "Uh…I…I guess so," he says finally, holding just shy of meeting Akabane's eyes outright. "If you don't try to kill me during our retrievals," he quickly adds.

Akabane smiles. He picks up his pace where he left off, and Ginji joins him. "I have to make some effort to stop you when we're on assignment, Ginji-kun," he explains gently. "Otherwise it wouldn't be proper. Wouldn't you agree that you'd feel compelled to do the same if our positions were reversed, and I was carrying something you had been hired to take back?"

Ginji scowls despite the understanding. "I guess," he mutters. "Just – why do you have to be so _good_ at it?"

Akabane laughs, a hearty thrum of smooth current that surrounds them. "We're both good at it, Ginji-kun. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Because we're professionals," Ginji announces as if on cue.

"Precisely."

"But it's not nice, what you do to the enemies in the course of a job," Ginji reminds him with a little growl.

Akabane gives him a grim look. "Some enemies you shouldn't be nice to. Being nice can get you killed."

"But friends don't try to hurt each other like that!" Ginji argues, somewhat heatedly.

Akabane stops again, his eyes dark with a sad affection as he studies the man who was once a fearsome, merciless Emperor over all he surveyed. "Ginji-kun, there is a saying that my mother taught me when I was a young boy. I'll paraphrase it for your benefit since it's rather lengthy."

He pauses, and then recites the verse with perfect elocution. "_'To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun. A time to be born and a time to die; a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to love and a time to hate; a time for war and a time for peace.'_ You and Midou-kun knew this balance when you first met each other, even if you didn't realize it then. Sometimes the crossroads we walk offer only such contentious decisions. You still must choose your path. Not choosing is a choice in itself as well. You'll understand this someday, I'm sure."

Ginji looks almost like he's going to cry now. "But my friends don't usually want to kill me," he says, confused. "Do they? Even when there's a mission involved?"

Akabane comes closer to him, gently placing a gloved palm on his shoulder. "Perhaps not consciously. Even if it were so, it doesn't mean that they don't still care for you in their own way. But they must decide for themselves whether or not that friendship is something worth seeking above their intended objective. Friends are human, but they are also professionals who must fulfill their duties too."

Ginji looks at the ground, his arms hanging loosely by his sides like those of a limp marionette. His eyebrows squiggle like caterpillars as he struggles to make sense of Akabane's words. "I could feel it, when we had our fights," he says. "Makubex. Juubei. Masaki. Yukihiko. None of them really wanted to kill me. But something in them made them feel like they had to do it anyway. Some larger purpose…"

Akabane nods. He slips his hand from Ginji's shoulder into his hand, and squeezes it carefully. "A friend is also someone who will be honest with you when you cannot face truth on your own. Such pain can bring terrible suffering, but also great reward. Never forget that."

Ginji looks up at him, a subdued smile brimming at his lips. "Ban-chan sounded just like you, when he told me I had to challenge Kaoru to get her to spare Sakura from her flame seal. He said I couldn't go easy just because of nostalgia."

Akabane's smile is light, encouraging. He lets go of Ginji's hand and adjusts his hat. "Midou-kun is very wise, isn't he? Truly a worthy battle genius."

"But a kind one," Ginji points out. "You know it too, don't you, Akabane-san? You're easier to be around ever since you guys got together."

"Why, Ginji-kun," Akabane teases. "Are you saying that I wasn't hospitable company before I met Midou-kun?"

Ginji's eyes fly wide open and he hastily holds up his hands. "No, no! Well, err - I just meant – I didn't mean – what I was trying to say is – "

Akabane's amusement never wavers as he watches him tongue-trip over his words. Finally he takes pity on the stammering retriever. "It's all right, Ginji-kun. I know what you meant. I'm flattered by your trust, truly, I am."

Ginji is too stunned to reply at first, especially when Akabane suddenly leans in to give him a slight embrace. Slowly, his arms make a painstaking effort to return the hug. He pats Akabane's back awkwardly, unsure of the correct etiquette in socializing with a transporter with a penchant for part-time homicide. They separate before the touch becomes too uncomfortable, and he looks at his sometime nemesis with equal curiosity. "You're not mad at me?" he wonders aloud.

"Of course not," Akabane says, as utterly charmed by Ginji's baffling innocence as he's enamored of Ban's elusive temptations. "Friends can choose to forgive each other's failings as well."

"That's true," Ginji says, perking up as he thinks of all the ones he's reconciled with since leaving Mugenjou for good. He considers for a few minutes, and then offers, "I guess…that sort of makes you my friend?"

Akabane fairly beams at him. "I would like that, Ginji-kun. I would like that very much indeed."

"Just as long as you remember who your friends are when you go up against any retrievers in the future," Ginji says, his voice laced with imperiousness. "If you really care about someone, you want them to be happy no matter what. Even if – especially if - you don't believe in their choices."

Akabane nods as they fall into step once more. "I hope you know that I take you quite seriously regardless of the circumstances, Ginji-kun. I would certainly appreciate it if similar generosity was returned to me."

"I'll think about it," Ginji promises. "Akabane-san – " He's about to ask another question when he catches the muted sounds of a now-familiar refrain. "What's that song you keep humming?"

"It's my favorite," Akabane tells him. "Have you ever heard the entire version of it? I could sing it to you, if you like. Or you could sing it with me…"

Ginji is noticeably delighted by this, since Ban claims he can't carry a tune if it had a handle and forbids him to join in the choruses when the car radio's playing. "Okay."

In the corridor they're traveling, Akabane starts off the first verse, and shortly thereafter Ginji takes over as they trade off lyrics. Akabane is feeling quite in a good mood, despite the ultimatum he just issued on his visit to the City, and this peculiar peace lends a new richness to his vocals as they waft along the walls of Mugenjou in his and Ginji's wake:

"_When I was young, I fell in love_

_I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead_

'_Will we have rainbows, day after day?'_

_Here's what my sweetheart said:_

'_Que sera, sera'_

_Whatever will be, will be_

_The future's not ours to see_

_Que sera, sera_

_What will be, will be…" _

_--_


	30. Bloody Rain Dance part 1

Title: Bloody Rain Dance (part 1)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #8 – "our own world"

Rating: R (m/m, adult content)

Warnings/Spoilers: See above.

Notes: See notes at the end of the fic for references. Thanks to Dinpik, Iksugui and Lady Bast for beta help. :)  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.  
Summary: It's not easy for Ban to trust, but snakes are nothing if not adaptable…and Ban's got a few surprises to adjust to when Akabane decides to spice up their relationship with a unique offering.

--

_Dance when you're broken open.  
Dance if you've torn the bandage off.  
Dance in the middle of the fighting.  
Dance in your blood.  
Dance when you're perfectly free._

-Rumi

--

"If I've told Juubei once, I've told him a dozen times. I _like_ having my balls played with," Kazuki sighs to Shido in the ambiance of the Honky Tonk.

Anybody else might be stunned into silence by such a comment, but Shido knows his old comrade better than most people, not to mention that, as one who speaks the language of animals, he is of course familiar with that most bestial of urges. "You of all people ought to know how bullheaded he can be," he answers easily, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I know. Sometimes I think his physician's training does us both more harm than good." Kazuki taps his fingernails on the countertop. "I keep reassuring him that a good squeeze, timed right and applied correctly, will not only _not_ break me but send me over the edge of an incredible orgasm."

"Face it, Kazuki. He still sees you up on a pedestal because of that arrangement your families had." Shido raises his cup to take another drink. "What's he do when you get a blow job on a date, make 'em ask permission first to suck off the sacred Fuuchouin saber?"

A choked sputter, cut off before it can burst into a full-throated guffaw, draws their attention before Kazuki can reply. They look over at one corner where Ban's sitting, having his usual cigarette and his own cup of coffee (today is a money day for him), looking like he's caught between disgust and twisted amusement.

"What are you looking at, monkey-boy?"

"A perverted snake bastard," Shido shoots back, and turns to Kazuki again to resume their explicit conversation. Paul's over at the other end of the counter, within hearing range but he's seen and heard it all so they take no notice of him. If Natsumi or Rena had been present it would have been another story. Like any good parent, or one who sees himself as such to a motley crew younger than he is, Paul tries to guard his waitresses' innocence.

Ban flips Shido the finger out of habit but doesn't bother to take the insult game any further. There's always another time to antagonize the ape. Besides, all this sex talk is making him horny. His thoughts have drifted to other impurities…

Ban looks over at Akabane and grins to himself.

One wouldn't be able to guess just by looking at the demurely-appearing transporter, with his neatly pressed outfit, crossed legs and proper posture that from underneath that broad-brimmed hat Akabane is shooting him a look that clearly transmits _let's go home rip each other's clothes off and do things together that are highly illegal in about seven different countries. _Ban can practically smell the want rising off of him in palpable waves, finding it both amusing and arousing that Jackal's such a glutton where sex is concerned. Used to be it was the scent of blood that got him off; now it's the aroma of anticipating a different type of fun.

As if to confirm this Akabane's smile turns sultry and he looks up more fully at Ban, his eyes alight with excitement. _What are we waiting for?_ that look seems to say in response to Ban's quirked eyebrow.

Ban silently counts off to a beat of fifty before casually rising from his seat and heading for the exit.

"Race you home," he hisses in the other man's ear as he passes by.

There is nothing that Akabane loves more than a good contest, and he proves it by calmly getting up from his seat, depositing some change on the counter for his drink, and darting out the door after Ban in a flurry of black trenchcoat. As they charge down the sidewalk both going hell-bent-for-leather Ban overhears Shido grumbling to Kazuki in the distance.

"…Oh, don't mind those two. They're just going to go screw each other's brains out for a few hours…"

Oh yeah. Ban grins. Celibacy must be such a bitch for the simian servant.

--

They're barely inside the apartment and don't even make it to the bedroom before they're tearing at each other's clothes, tossing shirts here, flinging gloves and coats over there, gluing themselves together in a frantic kiss. Apparently Ban wasn't the only one turned on by Kazuki's frank discussion of sexual matters. He grins to himself and grinds his hips against Akabane's while he gnaws away at the jackal's neck, kissing, sucking, biting. He's in a mood to let the world know that this is his lover and the best form of advertisement will be several brightly colored marks on that pale skin the next morning.

With an evil smirk Ban wonders if Akabane owns any turtlenecks in his wardrobe. He'll need one by the time he's through.

Soft laughter, charming in its wickedness, tickles his ear as Akabane winds one long leg around Ban's waist, pulling him in even closer. "Two can play that game, Midou-kun." And the next thing Ban knows Akabane is shoving him up against the wall and burying his face in the heat of Ban's skin, tongue and teeth and lips tracing a hungry path along his own neck. A sharp nip at his jaw reminds him that this is no ordinary lover he's taken for a mate – Jackal's bite conveys a very possessive instinct.

A little aggression is fine – normal, for them, and fun when held within certain boundaries. But there's a fine line between aggression and domination, and Ban isn't having any of the latter, not now, not ever. The closest he's ever come to letting Akabane have the upper hand is allowing him to dictate nonsmoking perimeters. Ban has issues concerning voluntary surrender.

He grabs Akabane's arms and shoves him around until he's the one with his back pressed against the wall. "Play nice," Ban growls softly, sliding his thigh up and between his lover's legs to rub at his groin.

Lavender eyes dilate in their desire and Akabane utters a quiet moan at the contact. He sighs and suddenly tilts his head forward, lips parting with a flash of bared teeth. Ban's about to reprimand him again, warn him that he's pushing his luck, but then those teeth gently, gently! – close over the tip of his nose and hold in place: a love bite.

Ban likes these. He stays still, leg pausing in its undulations, as they acknowledge this brief display of affection. A few seconds pass and Akabane lets go, pink tongue lightly swiping the spot where his teeth had touched, before he dips his head and soothes the rougher bite with tender kisses. When he draws back Ban moves in and offers his own love bite, claiming Akabane's lower lip in his teeth.

The jackal makes a soft sighing noise, and fists his hands in Ban's tank top, clutching urgently at him. Ban breaks the bite-kiss and reaches a hand to the pale man's throat.

Fingers caress the elegant length of skin where Akabane's pulse races, and then Ban strokes downward, suddenly clawing hold of the white shirt and ripping it open with a crisp tearing noise. Purple eyes flare in shock and arousal, and Akabane licks his lips daintily. The sight of that devilish tongue further fuels Ban's excitement and he runs his hands over the exposed chest, taking in the feel of smoothness coupled with the sudden variations of scar tissue in places. Akabane seems to like this, and a rough purr vibrates in his throat.

Ban pulls the other man to him, one hand capturing the back of Akabane's head, the other hurriedly fumbling with the belt and fly of his trousers. They kiss hungrily, hot tongues and nipping teeth, firm lips, Akabane's own hands seizing Ban's belt and struggling with that, before Ban succeeds first and forces a hand past the uncooperative zipper. The jackal groans then, driving his hips insistently against the motions of Ban's hand while it searches out his erection.

Akabane again tries to assert control by digging his claws into Ban's back and arms, administering an almost vicious nip to his lover's earlobe. Ban snarls and roughly spins him around, biting Akabane's shoulder at the point where his neck meets sinew and bone, and rakes his own fingernails down the sleek length of that bare torso. A hiss of delight is his reply, and Ban shoves both hands farther still, past the waistband of the other man's underwear to finally clasp what he desires.

He feels a little trickle of something damp down the side of his neck, and wonders whether it's blood or sweat. If the former, it certainly explains the emergence of Akabane's wilder side. They're careful not to draw blood during their trysts, but sometimes it can't be helped. An injury this small isn't worth quibbling over in light of more pleasurable pursuits taking place right now; the thin body writhing eagerly against him and the harsh, panting breaths following each rapid caress of his hands have Ban convinced of the wisdom of picking one's battles wisely.

On the flip side of the coin, the limits of what are and aren't permissible have been graying lately. Perhaps it's time for a reminder of proper bedroom etiquette. Ban freely admits he gets a kick out of topping a man as dangerous and unpredictable as Jackal, and it's not as if Akabane doesn't enjoy it either.

He pulls his hands away, much to Akabane's disappointment, and steers him over to the dinner table. Akabane makes a little disgruntled noise, but allows Ban to bend him over it without much conflict.

Ban glances around, contemplating possible sources of lubricant. He spies a bottle of hand lotion nearby and snatches it off the countertop, using his free hand to yank Jackal's trousers and underwear down past his hips before scrambling with his own clothes. One flick of the cap and shake of the bottle later, coconut-scented goop squirts out in a fat blob onto Ban's palm. He tosses the bottle away and slicks an index finger liberally in the stuff; the rest will be used to coat his erection. He shoves Akabane's shirt up higher on his back and presses the lotion-covered finger home.

Jackal squirms beneath him and yelps softly in discomfort. Ban understands why a second later, when he wraps his greased hand around his own flesh: that lotion's _cold._ Letting a hiss of breath stream from his mouth, he concentrates instead on building the intensity of their passion. His finger slips further inside, finding that spot, and he knows he's hit pay dirt when Akabane suddenly wriggles and moans loudly. Ban wastes no time in replacing his finger with a more substantial part of his body, and proceeds to make them both very happy.

Their frantic coupling lasts only moments, but it's enough. Ban grabs onto the back of Akabane's neck with his teeth and hears a moan of ecstasy as he drives hard, harder, into the warm willing body beneath him. His fingers slide along a pale ribcage, coming up under Jackal's chest, and capture his nipples between their pads, rolling and twisting the pebbled nubs to send his lover rocketing. A flash of silver catches Ban's eye and his heart seizes almost painfully, maybe things will turn bloody after all, but the scalpels remain clenched in Akabane's fists, scraping the table surface with hair-raising rasps. Ban hides a manic smile in the tousled ebony spilling over the other man's shoulders.

Some of the knives retreat from one hand and Akabane reaches for Ban's arm, digging elegantly-manicured fingernails into the wrist. Ban feels his hand being guided lower, down between his lover's thighs, and he obliges the unspoken request. Akabane bucks against him and he rushes the pace of his grip, sweeping the other man off in a tidal wave of pleasure. Akabane mewls a thin, high-pitched cry, and Ban's ragged growl follows shortly thereafter.

They sag together on top of the table, panting, silent for a while as they regain their senses.

Eventually Akabane speaks. He raises his head, blinking back sweat-dampened strands of hair that dangle in his eyes, and frowns slightly at the marks scoured into the table. "Oh my. That isn't good…"

Ban manages a shaky laugh. "Are you kidding? That, dear Jackal, is the hallmark of great sex. The best stuff comes when you make a mess."

The time for more leisurely carnal pursuits will come later…

But first, dinner calls.

--

It's when they're lying together in bed much later that same evening, the subject of dynamics rears its uncomfortably frank head again. Ban wonders if he even ought to ask the question that's been gnawing at his mind, loaded as it is. He isn't sure he can deal with whatever pops out of that can when or if it's opened.

Some perverse part of him wants to make it bleed regardless.

He settles for an opener. "Tell me something about you. Something I don't know yet."

If Akabane is surprised by this he doesn't show it. He curls up against Ban. "What would you like to know?"

"Something. Anything. The first time you ever got laid."

A low chuckle warms the skin on Ban's shoulder. "How prurient of you."

"I'm young yet. Blame the hormones."

"I suppose a dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste," Akabane replies slyly, purple eyes twinkling in the dusky light. "But fair is fair. If I share such information with you, you must offer me something likewise as titillating in return."

Ban shrugs. "Fine." He reaches for the box and lighter on the nightstand. "So. Tell me about it." He lights a cigarette and settles back into the pillows. "Don't skimp on details, either."

Akabane gives him a curious look. "I didn't think that you were one for idle gossip."

"It's not gossip."

"Then what would you call it?"

"Information."

"For future use? Come now, Ban-kun," Akabane says somewhat reproachfully. "There's no shortage of that type of exposition in the world. Why question me?"

"Why not?" Ban raises a brow. "It's just...I know you, and yet I know so little about you. I'd just like to have something to go on besides what I already know."

"How odd, that you should say such to me." Akabane turns over on his side, giving Ban a look. "I do not require your history. You say nothing, and so I assume that you wish not to speak of it, and out of respect I let it be. But I would still like to hear your stories. Am I not worthy of your secrets?" he asks smoothly.

Ban holds the stare, not saying a word as he smokes.

Akabane relents, having decided that this conversation is serious enough to warrant further exploration. "If you truly must know, my first experience was with my old friend Semimaru Kanade and his mistress. He wanted to surprise me on my birthday. He succeeded." He gives a light laugh and smiles. "It was my first lesson in enjoyment."

Ban snorts softly. "Damn. I knew you were a kinky sonofabitch."

Akabane smirks. "I'm not the one with a serpent tentacle housed in my arm."

"Serpent _claw._ Big fuckin' difference. And seeing as how you walk around with your own sadomasochistic armory you don't have room to talk."

Akabane pouts. "That's not fair. I only use them for specific tasks."

"Which involve shooting them at regular intervals through your flesh. Sounds like issues to me."

It's Akabane's turn to shrug. He props his head up on one hand and studies Ban. "I'm guessing that you have some of your own concerning your…other half," he murmurs, gaze dropping to the retriever's right arm.

Ban stiffens almost imperceptibly. He's never liked sharing the particulars of Aesclepius with anybody, even his lover. Still, as Akabane mentioned, fair _is _fair… "I know what you're gonna say, so save your breath. We've got an understanding between us. He leaves me alone for the most part, and I don't bother him with unnecessary requests. I have no problem calling on him when I need to. But I don't like wasting power when a situation doesn't require it."

"Mmm." Akabane twines a strand of jet dark hair around his fingertip. "But, Midou-kun, even a god grows weary of boredom."

Ban blows a smoke ring into the air. "Sucks to be him. I didn't ask to have any extra tenants in my body when I got it."

"Why don't you try talking to him?"

"What?"

Akabane's face is solemn. He's quite serious about this business. "There are compromises that can be worked out. Perhaps all yours asks is a chance to be heard once in a while. To exercise the natural power bequeathed upon you, as is his godly-given nature. Divinities need enjoyment just as much as mortals do."

He'd never considered it in that light before, Ban thinks. It's an interesting concept: though he's more or less accepted Aesclepius as a part of him as innate as his own psyche, he's always compartmentalized the snake as well, preferring to think of that power as being tucked away in its own separate box that remains closed and locked when not needed. There was a time, he remembers with no small guilt, when he was not as conservative with his employment of the serpent-bearer…

"What compromise did you work out with yours?" Ban asks, though he already knows. He refrains from speaking of it in concrete terms only because he hasn't yet figured out a way to lock up the door to that gateway. Names and their ilk are a formidable source of power.

Akabane lowers his eyes to the sheets. He, like Ban, is not ashamed of his darker aspect, but finds little pleasure in discussing it so openly. "The Jackal makes no compromises. Only covenants," he answers softly, hand moving up to rub unconsciously at the ribbons of black branding his upper left arm.

Ban nods slowly. "The terms of which aren't open to renegotiation, I take it."

Akabane's eyes carefully meet his. "The balance must be addressed. Until such cursed fate is over…"

The hairs on the back of Ban's neck rise, and not just because it echoes a portion of the incantation he must use to summon Aesclepius to active duty. He wonders what other secrets Akabane keeps.

To cover his unease he returns to the original topic. "You gonna tell me?"

"About what?"

"The threesome you had."

Good humor restored, Akabane chuckles quietly. "I never kiss and tell," he purrs. He lightly brushes his lips against Ban's and whispers a few words.

"I want you, Midou-kun. Now."

Ban suspects it's all about the penetration for Jackal. But he acquiesces to the quiet demand, stubbing out the remainder of his cigarette, reaching for the jar of cream, before lifting the other's slim hips in his grip and spearing him with his erection. Jackal's body automatically tenses at the invasion but almost immediately afterward goes limp in eager submission, and he arches back with a soft moan of pleasure.

This time is for the slower song. They rock together in easy motion, mouths hungrily fused to each other and arms wrapped tightly about their bodies, until the first rolling wave hits one and drags the other under in turn. Groans and gasps fill the air while the shudders careen through both lovers, eventually slowing to dull quakes that peter out at the end, and they collapse on the bed in a pleasant stupor.

It's a control issue for both of them. Ban has a problem trusting others, even close others, and Akabane needs to prove, to himself if not to anyone else, that his power is strong enough to dominate that which he perpetually seeks to overcome. Greatness cannot come without first having achieved smaller steps…mastery over the little death will perhaps offer insights as to how better to overcome the larger one.

With mastery, too, comes tenaciousness, of which Akabane possesses infinite amounts when in pursuit of something that's captured his interest. He wraps himself around Ban again and speaks the forbidden question.

"Why won't you permit me an equal share once in a while?"

Ban raises a brow. "You don't like what I do?"

"No, no. You're a wonderful lover," Akabane hastens to assure him. "Only…"

"What?"

"I want us to share many kinds of pleasure. Don't you think that would be interesting?"

Ban frowns. "Why mess with a good thing if there's nothing wrong with it?"

"But Midou-kun, variety is the spice of life."

"Not my life. I've had enough variety to last several of 'em, believe me."

Akabane's eyes narrow thoughtfully.

Next thing Ban knows, he's being attacked by a handful of slender but strong transporter. He squirms underneath, evading the long fingers that attempt to grab and hold him in place, and shoves the other man away when Akabane reaches for him again. The jackal redoubles his efforts, and latches onto Ban's torso to pull him back onto the bed.

The friction has its advantages, and Ban decides it's as good a distraction as any to put the unwelcome subject of control to rest. He leans into Akabane's embrace, unbalancing him, and when they flop onto the mattress Ban uses his momentum to flip them into a roll that ends with him on top. He plants his mouth squarely on Akabane's and rocks their hips together, but this time his lover isn't taking the bait.

Akabane hooks his legs around Ban's and twists suddenly, savagely, throwing Ban off balance and spinning him over onto his back. Before Ban can retaliate, he pounces, straddling Ban's hips and slamming his arms above his head, effectively trapping him in a cage of silver.

"Hey, hey! What'd I tell you about bringing sharp toys to bed?"

The scalpels around his wrists have no mercy. Akabane smiles and says, "They're not penetrating anything, are they?"

"Don't fuck with me, Jackal! Let me up. Now."

"Not until you answer my question."

Ban blinks, his mind trying to keep up with the progression of events. "What question?"

"Midou-kun," Akabane's voice doesn't lose its pleasant timber, but his smile edges into a sharper warning. "You are testing my patience."

"Oh for – " Ban hisses and thrashes beneath Akabane. "Let me up, damn it!"

Akabane relents and withdraws the knives holding Ban hostage. Too irritated now to settle into the cushioning of the bed, Ban gets up and stalks over to the dresser. He yanks open a drawer and pulls out a clean pair of shorts, which he puts on, and his robe, which is hanging on a peg nearby.

He returns to the bed only to snatch his lighter and cigarettes, and then he's off to the patio outside, only too aware of Akabane's silent gaze following him. Ban bristles, waiting for the inevitable questioning to follow, but no shadow approaches and all is silent, and he's left with the embers of his irritation and shame.

Ban keeps smoking, stubbing out charred butt after charred butt, while he broods over his dilemma. There's no excuse for it, really. Paul had said, time after time, that his stubborn pride was always the one thing that would get in the way of his true path, and looking back, though he hates admitting it, the old codger has a point.

But the past has a stronger hold than anyone would like to believe, and Ban knows firsthand how too true the gravitation of destiny is. Some cycles can and should be broken, but doing so is entirely different than talking about them. Mere desire alone isn't enough to alter these threads of heritage – what's needed is something more, something born of will.

Ban lifts his head, decision having been made. He owes Akabane at least this much.

He comes inside, cigarettes and lighter clutched in one hand, and returns to the bedroom. He finds a now-robed Akabane sitting in bed propped up by the pillows, reading. The other man lifts his gaze and offers a tentative smile, as if inquiring after his lover's state.

Ban tosses his smoking implements on the dresser and sits on the edge of the bed, his back to Akabane. He hears the pages of a book whisper as it's closed and laid aside.

"It's a…thing…I have. I guess…I feel like – like it's a weakness, in a way."

The bed dips slightly as Akabane crawls over next to him.

"I know my faults, even if it's taken me some time to come to terms with them," Ban says, the words flowing a little easier now that he's committed to the tale. "But for me, it goes a little further. I was raised not to be weak. Because in my world – _our_ world - the weak get beaten. Worse than that. They're shredded. A weak witch doesn't survive very long. Those that hunt us live for such a treat."

Akabane waits patiently, not saying anything, his gaze resting on Ban.

"Grandmother always warned me not to tell people anything about myself or where I came from. You never knew who was safe and who was a witch-hunter. But there were others, too. Ordinary people that were just ignorant, lived by superstition and thought all that nonsense passed on about witches was true – that we'd turn into beasts at night, that we'd suck the blood from livestock, or suffocate babies in their sleep. Myths that gained a foothold in darker times than these and never quite got shaken off, because people were either too quick to judge or too lazy to disprove things themselves."

Ban takes a slow, deep breath, forcing himself to keep an even keel. Even now, though it's been so many years since it happened, he can remember it as clearly as if it was yesterday. In his mellower moments, he thinks that he's forgotten the worst of it, and can move on without dwelling on his tormentors' cruelty. But all it takes for the ugliness to fester again is one trigger: a look given by a stranger, a harsh word hurled from another.

Or a trial by ordeal – and if ever there was an ordeal to endure, it's the flaying open of wounds he thought were once long sealed and scarred over.

"I don't have to have a source to base my visions on to create them. It helps, sometimes, but the imagination is far more powerful than most people realize. There're certain templates I use a lot because they're the most effective."

"You make others see ghosts that aren't there," Akabane says.

Ban nods. "I make them burn, one way…or another." His eyes glint with a coldness he doesn't hold back. Like real flame, this blue fire is the hottest of all rages.

Akabane studies him. "Who did it?" he asks quietly.

"Bunch of older kids." Ban fixes his gaze on a wall, not trusting himself to look at his lover without losing focus. If he's distracted now, it'll never come out. "I was six. Didn't have either Aesclepius or the Evil Eye yet – old hag thought I wasn't ready for them." He shrugs. "Not that it would've mattered much, I guess. I was still learning the basics. And – " Ban clenches a fist, feeling the sour churn of bitterness long-seated. "I was desperate enough to believe that I could actually have a chance at a semi-normal life."

His lip curls in self-disgust at the memory – a young, scrawny kid who ought to have known better; scared, lonely, confused, wanting what others his age had but always denied that acceptance because of his cursed blood. It seems like a lifetime ago that he had looked in the mirror and seen the brash youth of optimism reflected in that gaze instead of the calculating cynicism of a battered ancient.

"We'd just moved again because of the witch-hunters. I was wandering around the neighborhood once and saw this group of boys always roaming the area. I managed to get into their gang and we spent a few weeks just hanging out, exploring the town and seeing who could beat whom in typical contest. It was actually kind of fun for a while…"

"Until they found out you were a witch," Akabane says.

"Yeah," Ban says, and goes silent. It hurts to dredge the humiliating recollection from mists buried but not entirely forgotten. He knows it shouldn't ache any more, but there is no changing the fact that to this day he still carries that fragmented piece of betrayal deep in his heart, and likely always will.

When he can bring himself to continue, he speaks again, low, even tones. "I don't know how word got out to them. Could've been something they figured out on their own, or maybe they heard something from gossipy passers-by shooting off their mouths. We'd had problems before with nosy neighbors snitching on us and forcing us to run. Either way, it didn't matter. Grandma said it was human nature for people to crave a scapegoat for their own problems. She was right." He scowls. "Their willful ignorance damn near cost me my life."

Akabane gives him a curious look. "But surely that proves that you were stronger than them in the end, since you escaped - "

Ban looks at him. "I didn't," he says flatly. "The only reason I'm sitting here today is because my grandmother liked to keep a tight leash on me. If she hadn't gone searching for me I'd be nothing but ashes right now." He tries and fails to subdue the bite of anger that suddenly crushes his heart. "I still remember what she said to me after she doused me with that water bucket. 'Don't get used to this, Ban. In the real world, nobody ever comes to the rescue.'"

Akabane blinks. "My, that's rather harsh, isn't it?"

"But accurate," Ban replies grimly. "As big of a bitch she could be, my grandmother was smart. What she learned, she passed on to me. That wisdom's never failed me since." He sinks back into bruising memories of jeering peers and lit matches, stark terror amidst the pop-snap-crackle of kindling set aflame, and the surety of death's ragged tongues licking at his heels. He rubs at his arms almost as if feeling once more the cold edges of the leather belt cutting into his skin from where they'd torn off his clothes and bound him to the post. Far sharper is the sting of shame, the sickening realization that his 'friends' hadn't been friends at all.

"Know why kids are so damn cruel, Akabane? They get it from adults. Then they grow up to be bullies who spawn little bullies, and more victims. It's the most vicious cycle I've ever heard of. Ginji is about the only person I know of who's ever been able to break that pattern. He stands up for the abused and stops the abusers…and yet, he also helps them rise above that. I don't know if it's because of his growing up in Mugenjou, or because of Raitei's brutality, but he understands where people are coming from. He cares what happens to them."

Ban pauses, then adds in a softer voice, "He cares about me. Even though I give him so much shit. He still sees something in me that's worth saving."

"He has the most inexplicable faith in humanity," Akabane agrees solemnly. "You and I know better than to trust in such myths. Our strength is what keeps us alive in the darkness."

"Only because people like Ginji were there to lead us back into the light," Ban muses. "We're the lucky ones, Akabane. How many others out there didn't get that second chance?"

They sit a while longer in silence, till Akabane ventures into speech. "For what it's worth, Midou-kun…I don't think you have anything to regret. Your experiences make you who you are. Your reaction to those experiences shows others who you are. If people don't like what life has made from you, maybe they should focus their energy on making sure others don't have those kinds of experiences instead of blaming you." He inches closer to Ban. "Did you kill them?"

"I wish." Ban hates the bitterness in his tone but he can't help it – some memories just don't ever fade with time.

"Would you like me to kill them?"

A sarcastic laugh bubbles up in his throat but the sound dies immediately when Ban looks at Akabane and realizes he's dead serious. His lover has a strangely protective streak which surfaces without warning at the oddest of times, whether it's in the midst of a conversation or a fight. Ban knows this is part and parcel of Akabane's peculiar mentality and is comfortable with it, but all just the same it's startling to hear someone he's intimately involved with calmly offer to hunt down his childhood tormentors and kill them without a second thought.

He stares for a while at Akabane. "No," he finally says. "It's long since over with, Jackal. It doesn't matter anymore."

"Of course it does." Akabane draws him into an embrace, tucking Ban's head into the crook of his shoulder while long elegant fingers card through the brown spikes of his hair. "If it didn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"I guess so." Ban glares up at him. "All just the same though, don't bother. It's not worth the hassle it would bring."

"I suppose you're right." Akabane nuzzles his cheek. "But if anyone ever tries to hurt you like that again, I promise you they won't live long enough to regret it." He tilts his head and purses his lips in thought. "Or maybe they will. Medical knowledge can be applied in a variety of _interesting_ ways, you see."

Ban raises a brow. "Listen to you, all big bad wolf. Who do you think you are to say those things?"

Akabane isn't deterred by the gruffness. He smiles. "I'm yours. As you are mine. And no one else is allowed to kill you." He kisses Ban's lips. "That's my job to do."

Ban can't help it. He laughs, and pulls Akabane in closer. "Ahh, Jackal. Life with you is never boring, at least."

Akabane's smile stretches at that. They shift and wrap together until they're reclining against the pillows, Ban cradled in Akabane's arms and lap with his legs twined against Ban's own.

"I apologize for pressuring you, Midou-kun. I only wanted us to be able to share the full range of our pleasures. I thought that you might enjoy it as much as I do."

Ban gently squeezes a scarred palm. "I know. It's not your fault."

"Yes it is. I shouldn't have forced the issue, seeing how upset it made you. Truly, I don't mind at all if we continue our arrangement as it currently stands, if that is your preference."

Ban thinks. "It is," he admits slowly, carefully turning over each word in his mind before giving spoken form to it. He's on the edge of a cliff here with a free parachute – does he dare make that leap of faith? "But it's not fair to you."

Akabane kisses his cheek. "It doesn't have to be fair. Only enjoyable. As long as we're both happy, isn't that what's important?"

"I _am_ happy, Akabane. Really, I am. It's been a long time since…since I've had anything like…this," Ban gestures awkwardly. "Somebody who can see past the bullshit…who isn't afraid of the darkness. Somebody who understands what it's like to go through life kept on the fringe because of strange highways calling in your heart." He reaches up and ruffles Akabane's hair. "It really is a mystery, how we ended up together, huh?"

"Not so much," Akabane answers with a smile. "Maybe it's fated."

"Maybe," Ban says, smiling back briefly. He rolls the idea around in his head one more time before deciding to take the plunge his destiny is offering. He's got nothing to lose but his pride and Paul would say that was an improvement. Of course, what the hell does Paul know? Ban takes no great dares without first assessing the potential damages; of plenty, those exist and then some, but instinct tells him he'll regret it forever if he doesn't face this gauntlet with the respect it deserves.

"I want to do this for you. Not because of some debt. Because we made a promise to each other. It's my turn to hold up my end of the deal." Ban takes a long, slow breath to steady his protesting nerves. "I just…need a little time, is all."

"Oh, Ban-kun." Akabane's contented sigh caresses the side of his face. "I would wait a lifetime for you, my dearest."

Ban gives him a wry chuckle. "It won't take us that long." He considers his proposition. "I'll make you a bargain, Jackal. Next month is our milestone, right?"

Akabane purrs against his shoulder. "You remembered. The night we forged a new challenge."

Ban snorts. "How could I forget? Ginji reminds me every chance he gets."

"That's because he's a romantic, like me," Akabane says. "You know he's sweet on Miss Mizuki the Honky Tonk waitress, don't you?"

"And Himiko. He once asked me what I thought if he asked her on a date. I told him the devil would shit snowballs in you-know-where before that ever happened."

"Oh, definitely," Akabane agrees, a bit of censure creeping into his voice to match Ban's. "As charming as he is, I fear that his penchant for financial irresponsibility does not make Ginji-kun a very good provider for Himiko-san."

Ban elbows him lightly in the stomach. "Hey, I'm half that irresponsibility too, don't forget." He clears his throat. "Anyway, back to us. We could do the dinner thing, get comfortable later on…get liquored up – _really_ liquored up – and…see where we go from there." He lifts a brow. "Does that sound good to you?"

"It's perfect. But not too liquored," Akabane warns with a playful fingertip on Ban's mouth. "I want you in top form for that night."

"I won't get completely blitzed," Ban agrees. "I still remember the cardinal rule: If Jackal ain't happy, ain't _nobody_ happy."

Akabane beams. "I'm so proud of you. I taught you well."

--

So it wasn't the brightest idea, Ban reflects as he stumbles into the apartment, clothes in tatters and soggy with blood. But hell, the retrieval had been completed as promised, with a few extra bodies thrown in for good measure. He just wishes his own collateral damage was less than the enemy's.

That point is made clear as he bumps the side of a wall going past, and he hisses a profanity-laden rant at the blaze of pain spearing his injured side. This is going to be worth several weeks of recuperation, dammit. Several _broke_ weeks of recuperation. A hobbled recovery team can't function with just one member, even if that member has enough power to light up downtown Shinjuku. Perhaps in counterbalance to his phenomenal abilities, Ginji, sadly, has no talent for negotiation or navigation.

Akabane appears in the hall, having been drawn by the noise Ban made upon entering. Seeing his lover in obvious distress, he immediately rushes to Ban's side – only to be batted away like a moth being swatted at.

"Just let me get my bearings here for a minute before you start trying to play doctor on me, all right?" Ban snaps, pain fueling his annoyance several shades higher than it normally would be.

To his credit Akabane doesn't become upset by this brusque greeting, but neither does he withdraw his advances. "I hope you didn't leave this sort of mess in the rest of the building. Whatever will the other tenants think?"

"The other tenants can blow me. You can blow me too, if you even so much as think about coming near me with one of those goddamn knives…" Ban trails off as he realizes he's being shepherded into the bathroom and systematically stripped of half his clothes. The delicate, concentrated frown marring the smoothness of the other man's elegant features tells him that Akabane is in full studious physician mode.

"Goodness. It must have been quite a battle, hmm?" With a critical eye Akabane carefully traces gloved fingers along the jagged rip in Ban's flesh, just beneath his ribcage.

Ban inhales, exhales slowly, trying to time his breaths so as not to aggravate the throbbing burn of his wound. "You think that's bad, you ought to see the other guy. Let's just say he won't be walking straight without a good set of crutches in the near future."

"Mmm." Akabane peels away a small strip of torn fabric that's stuck to a bloodied, bruising area, and Ban growls. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to have a better look here…"

"It was a fucking mace. Goddamned thing was studded with spikes, big sharp things that almost tore a hole in my gut if Ginji hadn't shocked the guy in time. Sent his aim off just enough, and I wound up with this instead."

"I see. What of Ginji-kun, then? I hope he hasn't met with any unfortunate harm."

"He got roughed up some by the enforcer they hired to guard the gemstone, but other than that he's okay."

"That's good to hear." Akabane rises and looks at him thoughtfully. "I'm afraid this will need more than a spray of antiseptic and a bandage, Midou-kun. Wait here and I'll bring back my kit."

Ban starts to get up from the counter he's seated on. "What I need right now is a stiff shot of alcohol. And a cigarette."

"What you need is to have that wound cleaned so it doesn't become infected." Firm hands push him back onto the counter and Akabane gently taps a fingertip on Ban's nose. "Stay," he says, as if instructing a dog to remain in place, and promptly goes off in search of his black bag, the one he keeps most of his medicinal equipment in.

Ban's tempted to argue with him but his rational side keeps a muzzle on his mouth. Once Akabane's interest is engaged in a particular matter, nothing on earth can dissuade him from it. And, in a way, it's kind of nice to be fussed over, he supposes.

Or so he thinks until Akabane returns with his medical gear. The first thing to emerge from the black bag is a bottle of rubbing alcohol, which he proceeds to apply liberally with a cotton swab to the affected area. Even before the first blistering drop touches his flesh Ban's searing the room with a diatribe cursing his lover and his lover's ancestors all the way back to the very first primordial jackal, using up almost all of his exceedingly impressive profanity stores, and he does it in point-two seconds, by his personal reckoning.

Naturally Akabane finds this amusing. Bastard.

"I know it hurts, Midou-kun, but the pain will be far greater if an infection develops." Gentle fingers flutter over Ban's sweaty forehead; soft lips caress Ban's ear with a cajoling whisper. "I promise to be as quick as possible. Just hold still for me, now…"

It is possible for the great Ban Midou to be wrong. The needle drags its fang through his skin, and Ban instantly discovers swear words from languages long thought to have been phased out of existence.

Akabane sighs and withdraws the torture implements intended for healing. "I'm sorry, but that won't scab over by itself. It needs to be closed in order to heal properly."

"So slap a goddamned bandage on it already!"

"The blood will only soak through the wrappings. The wound is too deep." Akabane approaches him again with the needle and its surgical thread. "Please, try to be still so that I can finish this."

Ban tries, he really does, but all it takes is that singularly vicious prick of the needle's tip for him to smack his lover's hands away. "_Mein Gott!_ Can't you at least give me some anesthetic or something?"

"All I have in my bag at the moment is topical," Akabane explains, the apology softly coloring his voice. "I would have to go through other channels for anything stronger and there isn't time for that."

"_Shit."_

"Five minutes, Ban-kun." Akabane strokes back a wisp of brown lock from Ban's face as he tries to cajole his lover. "I promise I'll work quickly. But you need to stop moving, or you'll risk further injury."

Ban resists the urge to slap his forehead. "How much worse can it possibly get?" he nearly shouts.

Violet sparks in Akabane's eyes, the first hint of a temper that's becoming strained by an uncooperative patient. "I could accidentally sew up something that should remain open," he says with a pointed gesture of the needle in the direction of Ban's mouth.

"Fine, fine. Just do it fast and get it over with." Ban jams a towel in between his teeth and grabs onto the counter for support, imagining that it's Jackal's neck.

Akabane works his skill in record timing, but in the contest between his speed and Ban's tolerance he still comes out the loser. The stitches aren't even halfway finished when Ban finally breaks, loosing a howl that seems to shake not only the walls but the entire building around them.

There's no response from any of the neighbors but total silence. Word travels fast in this local enclosure, and none more swiftly than lethal gossip. Other tenants have long since learned - after an incident last spring where one of them got too pushy about requesting quiet during evening hours - that when strange noises emanate from the upper floors, it's best to just pretend nothing ever happened. Ban's made damn sure of that.

Akabane lets slip his exasperation, blowing a gust of breath past his lips as he stiffly plucks himself up off the floor from where Ban just shoved him. "This is getting us nowhere," he complains, glaring at his lover. "You won't sit still and I refuse to let you aggravate your condition any further. There must be some way…" He tilts his head to one side, thinking, and then scalpels flick out from between his fingers.

"Try it and you're dead before you hit the floor. Again."

Akabane takes a step forward, brandishing the scalpels in preparation for his attempt to pin the other man down. "Don't make promises you don't intend to keep," he rejoins smoothly. "It's either this or your cooperation, and so far I've seen no inclinations toward the latter."

Ban sinks into a crouch, preparing to defend himself in spite of the stabbing pain of his wound. He's likely to be cornered eventually, but damned if he'll give in without a kicking and screaming fight. "That a _professional_ opinion, _Doctor_?" he sneers. "At the rate you're going I'm liable to sue you for malpractice!"

There are times when Akabane is tolerant of such jokes and times when he is not. As his lips thin and his eyes narrow Ban knows that this is one where Jackal's sense of humor has taken a backseat to his focus. Akabane lunges, Ban barrels ahead, and they wind up colliding in a storm of flailing limbs, sending towels and black bags and debris tumbling everywhere.

Ban reaches out with his right hand to put a stop to this nonsense, and finds he can't move his arm. It's tangled in one of the towels…which is stapled to the floor with a scalpel.

"_Fuuuuuuuuuuck!"_

"Perhaps later," Akabane observes dryly, his smile back in place now that he knows he's won. It vanishes in the next second when he looks down and realizes they're both covered with Ban's blood. "Now look," he scolds tartly. "You've reopened the stitches I did put in."

"Some loss," Ban sulkily scoffs. He closes his eyes, feeling the pain of his sudden exertions wash over him and suck him into the undertow. "Ergh…"

Akabane's displeasure switches to concern as the stern posture of his brows softens. "Oh, Midou-kun…" He sighs. "Truly, I don't mean to cause you more pain. Why won't you let me help?"

Because, Ban thinks to himself, clenching his teeth, he isn't used to letting anybody help him. Nobody ever cared enough to bother before, and he'd always made do with whatever resources were available at the time. Hadn't his grandmother warned him to learn self-reliance in the shadows of the devils that stalked his family name? In the end, it was really only oneself that one could trust.

But what to do, when one wasn't capable of holding up that heavy mantle?

He hears the nearly-imperceptible _snicks_ of retracting blades and opens his eyes. Akabane is still sitting astride him, and the knives keeping Ban in bondage have withdrawn. Akabane is looking down at his hands, which are resting on Ban's stomach, fingertips warm against his skin despite the red-stained gloves. He seems uncertain as to what to do.

Finally he moves off of Ban, coming to crawl beside him as he leans over to stroke a few sweat-dampened brown locks out of his lover's eyes. "Midou-kun?" His voice has fallen to a whisper so quiet Ban can hardly hear him.

"Yeah?"

Akabane hesitantly meets his eyes. His expression is calm, controlled…except for the unease haunting the depths of his amethyst gaze. He's afraid, Ban realizes. The tension between them has taken on an unmistakable heaviness.

"Do you trust me?" the pale man whispers.

Ban stares at him. This is the first time they've spoken openly of such things as trust, where before it had existed between them as a tenuous bond of silent understanding. Some things they don't need to speak of, they just know, instinctively, and until now they've both been content to coast on this plateau. But sooner or later certain barriers must be breached, if they're ever to realize the full potential of their relationship.

Ban's throat works for a second or two, garnering the momentum. "Yes."

Something tender flickers in Akabane's eyes before smoothing itself over. He bends down and kisses Ban gently, once on the lips, once on the forehead.

He straightens and peels the glove of his right hand off, casting the material aside with little regard for it. A scalpel shoots out from his other hand.

Ban isn't sure whether to keep breathing or hold the air in. His trepidation is little assuaged by the sight of that glowing blade, but on some level he's fascinated by it, and he silently if not guiltily admits he's curious to see what happens next.

Akabane doesn't look at him. He pauses, as if reconsidering his intentions, then slowly and deliberately presses the sharp edge of his scalpel into the meat of his own palm. He draws the knife through his flesh easily, the only sign he's experiencing any discomfort from it a twitch of elegant brows.

Ban can't stop the words bubbling forth as thickly as the bright red seeping from the fresh wound. "What the – "

Akabane brings his injured palm up to his chest, cradling it for a few moments as he allows the blood to pool in it. When those precious rubies threaten to overflow and escape the cup of his hand he lowers it to the gash in Ban's side, and uncurls his fingers to let the blood stream over the wound.

Transubstantiation is what it's called, the changing of one arcane material into another. It's the same mystical process that rendered the god of the Christian peoples able to share his physical divinity with other mortals. Ban knows this because of his extensive reading, the studies he immersed himself in as a boy when his grandmother told him to learn things, and learn he did because who knew when such eclectic information might come in handy. With the knowledge also came experience, and skepticism of popularly accepted doctrines. Organized religion, in Ban's view, has little to do with the appreciation of a benevolent deity and a lot more to do with controlling and ruining people's lives…much like the unseen manipulations of Mugenjou's faceless self-appointed 'gods.'

But here, now, as he watches Akabane's blood tremble and shudder like beads of quicksilver, rushing to delve inside the gash in his side and seamlessly knit together torn and bruised flesh, Ban feels a sliver of belief inside him marvel at this proof of the miraculous, and a passage from the Eucharist flashes through his mind. _This is my body, taste of it._

He'd always suspected that Akabane's unusual powers hinted at such facets.

Akabane presses his bloody palm over the wound completely, the heat from both blood and skin making Ban's side warm almost uncomfortably as that life spreads and expands throughout his circulatory system. He smells hot copper and realizes there's steam emanating in thin tendrils from between Akabane's fingers as the wound is being sealed in a final spell.

Alarmed by the possibility of being charbroiled Ban starts to sit up. "Jackal – "

"Hush, Midou-kun," his lover soothes. "I'm almost finished." There's one more spurt of energy, a little wink of red light from underneath Akabane's hand, and then he lifts his palm from Ban's side. The slash in his palm is even now closing in on itself, the dripping trail of blood retreating neatly inside as if in a peculiar slow-motion film sequence.

Ban looks at himself, not daring to touch the skin at first for fear of being deceived by appearances. But his body feels no different than from when he woke up this morning. He pokes the site of the absent wound with a finger, stunned by the magic worked upon him. There isn't even a scar.

He looks up at Akabane. A thousand questions are dancing on the tip of his tongue, but he holds back, knowing that the story, if there is one, will be told in the other man's good time. Akabane has a sense for due process and getting sensitive information from him often requires delicate methods.

Akabane offers him a smile, one that's perhaps a bit tinged with mild regret. "If you had permitted it, I could have healed the sword wound I accidentally gave you when you got in the middle of my and Ginji-kun's fight. But at the time, you seemed more interested in the mission than in me…" he explains, rather apologetically.

"Look at it this way," Ban manages to say. "At least we know our blood types are compatible."

Akabane's smile blooms more fully. "How do you feel?"

"Better." A lot better, Ban realizes as he sits up. The strain of abused muscles is gone, and he doesn't feel quite as woozy as he did earlier. Whatever Akabane's done to him has worked wonders. "Thanks, Kuroudo."

"It's my pleasure."

Ban coughs up an awkward laugh. "You really do have the patience of a thousand saints, don't you? Putting up with me…"

Akabane embraces him, planting a soft kiss on his mouth. "I would rather endure an eternity of your anger than lose you to a moment's carelessness."

That gives Ban pause, as he reviews the night's events once more in his mind. It hadn't actually _been_ necessary for him to get himself torn up… Even Ginji, who is usually as gung-ho for crazy adventures as Ban is, had suggested that they might be better off trying different tactics for the job.

"Guess discretion really is the better part of valor," he mutters, and looks at Akabane. "I'll know better in the future." Ban sighs and hangs his head. "I was stupid this time."

Akabane shakes his head. "You were only doing what comes naturally for you. I know that Wan-san has been insinuating to you lately that you and Ginji-kun should retire from retrieving. But this is what makes you happy. There is always risk in pursuing one's desire."

"But not foolish risk," Ban says. "I forget that, sometimes. Tonight I got a painful reminder." He touches his side again, still humbled by the miraculous healing.

Akabane lightly squeezes his arms around Ban. "Life is pain, my beloved. I am hardly one to fault you for seeking what gives you enjoyment."

"What makes me happy is having you with me." Ban reaches up, gently tugs on a strand of Akabane's hair. They smile at each other. "I don't want to jeopardize that. No job is worth what's really important." He closes his eyes for a second, and reopens them. "I fucked up. I won't let it happen again."

Akabane kisses him. "I know you won't." His smile sweetens, but his eyes are all dangerous purple now. "Because, Ban-kun, if you ever come home with another injury like that, I will kill you myself."

It isn't just a threat, but it's not the entire truth either. Ban understands the reasoning behind it now.

"It's a deal, Kuroudo-liebe."

--

Time passes faster than it ought to, when anticipating events of a dubious nature. Before Ban knows it, a month's gone by, and the deadline he'd promised Akabane has arrived. He's done his best in the interim to prepare himself for what's to come, but a part of him can't help but quiver in mortal fear. No amount of reassurance can quell this subconscious whine, so Ban does what he always does when he feels anxious about something major: he goes down to the Honky Tonk and proceeds to smoke, drink and bitch his way through the day.

At one point Rena asks Paul why their regular is so grouchy. Paul glances at the Get Backers, one of whom is chewing the other's ear off, while the other sits meekly and nods in commiseration from time to time. He shakes his head and just says, "Owning up to one's weaknesses is never an easy thing to do."

Ban would have taken a strip of flesh off him for that, but he knows who keeps his bread buttered and his coffee hot, and he isn't keen on getting both himself and Ginji banned indefinitely from the shop. He settles for shooting the older man a blistering glare when his back's turned. Damn shame Paul's glasses get in the way of a good evil eye blast.

Natsumi comes over and pats Ban's shoulder reassuringly, having taken notice of everything while doing her dishes. She offers him a biscuit, paid for with her own wages, as she is wont to do whenever the retrievers are down on their luck and need a pick-me-up. It's small consolation, but he'll take it any way he can get it, and Ban manages a smile for her and thanks her.

"Don't worry, Ban-san," the girl says. "Akabane-san might surprise you. I'm sure he'll do everything he can to make you feel happy."

Ban raises a brow at her. She's far more perceptive than she seems sometimes, he thinks. "What makes you say that?"

Natsumi beams as she serves his grateful partner a biscuit too. "He looks at you like you're the only one in the world."

Ban frowns at his favorite mug. He starts to ask her how she knows that, but Ginji cuts in with an enthusiastic slap on the back. "Natsumi-chan's right. You can do it, Ban-chan! Whatever Akabane-san has planned, I know you two will make it work out."

"Jeez! Say it, don't spray it!" Ban growls as he brushes off a handful of wet crumbs from where Ginji's declaration hit him in the shoulder. He eyes his partner suspiciously. "You seem awfully sure about that. Something you wanna tell me now before I find out later and kick your ass, Ginji?"

Ginji's eyes go wide and he holds up his hands. "I'm just saying, Ban-chan!"

"Yeah? Maybe I'm saying that you better not be sneaking around with any last-minute cahoots, got it? I know how your pea brain fizzles."

"Weeeeellllll…" Ginji looks nervously from side to side, tacitly admitting guilt beneath the weight of Ban's glare. "I don't know if this counts, but Akabane-san did tell me to tell you something…"

"I knew it." Ban snaps his fingers and spins around on his stool to face him. "Out with it. What'd he bribe you with, a month's supply of free ice cream? No fights for a year?"

"It wasn't any of those," Ginji insists. "All he said was 'Ginji-kun, if Midou-kun asks, please tell him not to say it if he doesn't mean it.' That's all, I swear, Ban-chan."

"'Don't say it if I don't mean it'? What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Ginji shrugs. "Beats me."

Ban scowls. Before he can interrogate Ginji some more, however, the doorbell rings, signaling fresh patronage.

Himiko Kudou strides past the entrance, her gait controlled but brisk. A professional's walk. She bypasses Natsumi's cheery greeting speech with a polite acknowledgment and heads straight for Ban.

"It's time, Ban. Let's go."

He stares at her, feeling like he's just been dumped head over heels. "What?"

Himiko smiles, a knowing amusement that sets his teeth on edge, and not just because it reminds him quite a bit of Jackal's humor. "You know. He hired me to take you to him. Need I remind you – "

" – that a professional always completes his or her transport, no questions asked?" Ban groans.

"Exactly." Himiko crosses her arms expectantly. "I do have a schedule to keep, so can we get going? I'm sure I don't have to point out to you how he gets if he's kept waiting…"

"Let him wait." Ban stares her down, a near-impossibility considering he's the one who taught her how to do it. "Why are you involved in this?"

"Do I have to use the flame perfume on you?" Himiko sighs, all exasperation now. "I told you. I was hired to transport you and another item to a destination of his choice. That's what I was paid to do and that's what I'm going to do – whether you like it or not." Her chin lifts and sets as she levels defiance of her own at him.

How interesting. Ban's scowl feels like it could cut grooves into his forehead. He glances at Ginji, who pretends that the new biscuit Natsumi's feeding him is the most fascinating thing in the world. Rena's found dishes that need washing, and Paul's newspaper has mysteriously reappeared. No help here, the ingrates.

He sighs and scoops up a small package from the counter. "Fine. Where are we going?"

--

It's dark by the time Himiko's bike pulls up outside the hotel. Ban shivers in the sidecar, wishing for the umpteenth time that he'd thought to bring a jacket along for the ride. Himiko drives like a maniac. It shouldn't surprise him, he thinks - like brother like sister, after all. Yamato Kudou's lead foot was almost legendary in their old circles.

"Watch it," Himiko cautions him as he gets out, balancing the wrapped bundle in his arms. They'd picked it up from, of all places, Madoka Otowa's home. The prestigious violinist seemed to know why they were there, but sweetly declined to explain as she'd handed over the violin and wished Ban good luck, a fact which continues to annoy him. Cloak and dagger games aren't his favorite pastime when he's on the receiving end of one.

He stares at the hotel. Lot of memories associated with this place. His gaze shifts to the box still sitting in the sidecar. Himiko catches him in the middle of reflection, and her eyebrow raises, noting the way he gingerly picks it up in his free hand, as if suspecting that it's about to bite him.

"You've been here before, haven't you?"

"Yeah." Ban waits, his silence making clear that he's not willing to give up any more details until she coughs up some of her own.

She secures the bike's kickstand and comes around to escort him into the building. "Look, if it's any consolation, I don't have the first clue about what Akabane's up to. Nor do I really care. You know how secretive he is when he's up to something."

"Is that professional interest speaking, or do you just get your jollies from giving me a hard time?"

Himiko's grin is as sharp as one of his lover's scalpels. "Both," she answers.

"I swear, if you weren't Yamato's sister, I'd…!"

The room number he's assigned to isn't the same one that he remembers from last time, but it is one of the plusher suites, which suits Ban well enough. He and Himiko take the elevator to the topmost floor and she leads him down the hall.

She knocks on the door, and when they receive no answer she shrugs. "I guess you just go in," Himiko says after trying the knob and finding it unlocked.

"I figured," Ban says without rancor. "I've been down this route before." He's just curious to see whether it will lead to the same place. "What about your fee?"

"Already taken care of. Akabane's a sure thing," Himiko says, looking pleased with herself. "Why do you think I accepted this mission?"

"Other than the fact that you love being a witness to my suffering?" Ban snorts as he steps through the opened door. "Later, brat."

The closing door cuts off any acidic response from Himiko and leaves him alone with his restless thoughts. He's thoroughly puzzled by the clues he's received – what's he supposed to do with this violin, serenade the other guests? – and now that he's in the belly of the beast, so to speak, his anxiety ramps up another notch.

Jackal can be quite the trickster when he wants to be.

Ban surveys the room he steps into. It's decorated in a similar style as the other he's familiar with, ornate surroundings a visible testimony to the opulence its clients prefer. Not seeing any sign of his lover's presence, he cautiously moves further within. He can't tap onto Akabane's immediate power, and that worries him more than he knows it ought to. Their bond is still new, of course it hasn't had the chance to cure into something more solid, he tells himself.

Ban resolutely ignores the sneaky little voice in the back of his head that's whispering his nerves are winning this battle instead.

He's now in the main room proper. Strangely, most of the furniture has been moved off to one side, leaving a sizable space in the center. Unease takes a backseat to surprise as his brows draw together in a curious frown, and he bends down to examine a coffee table's contents, laying the violin and his box aside. There is a tray of mixed berries, and whipped cream. And a bottle of champagne – an expensive bottle of champagne – chilling in a bucket of ice nearby. The invitation is clear.

Ban is oddly touched. His lover tried to recreate the first memorable night they spent together. And though Ban isn't much for anniversaries, it's about the closest he'll ever come to celebrating one.

He stands and manages a somewhat shaky laugh. "Fuck."

A soft, sensual purr tickles his ear from behind. "All night long, if you like."

Ban whirls and finds he can't work his mouth for a good minute or two. It's Akabane, but not the Akabane he woke up next to this morning, or said goodbye to when he left for work.

This Akabane is some kind of pagan god, an unearthly creature of tempting shadow and hinting of sinful pleasure, come to seduce him utterly.

His voice cracks a little, when he finally finds it. "…How…What did you…do?"

_That _smile appears, the one that drives Ban so absolutely nuts that he can't decide whether to kiss the jackal, or kill him. "Do you find this to your liking, Midou-kun?"

Ban lets his greedy eyes drink in the stunning sight. Somehow that mass of incorrigible hair has been tamed, its glossy length falling smoothly along the sides of his lover's face and trickling over his shoulders like a perfect curtain of living ebony. When Akabane raises his gaze, that purple heaven is all the more startling for having been ringed with heavy smudges of kohl. The lines reach well past the ends of them, leaving a tail that completes the exotic effect.

Ban feels his face heat with a flame they both know darn well has nothing to do with anger or embarrassment. "You…you look…" He flails for a second, his tongue tripping knots over itself as it mops away the burgeoning drool. "Incredible."

Jackal's jaw lifts in evident pride, and his lips curl with satisfaction. "Thank you," he replies huskily.

"What's with all of this?" Ban gestures to the romantic backdrop. "The hotel, the food, the violin – " He swallows hard as he hungrily stares at his lover's seductive form. "…you…"

Akabane's smile widens. "I thought you'd never ask. I wanted to surprise you."

"Oh, I'm surprised, all right." Ban reaches out, lightly tracing the bejeweled gold and red décor surrounding Akabane's throat and shoulders. "What's with the collar? When I said I was putting you on a short leash, I didn't mean it literally…"

"I wanted to wear it for you. I thought you would like it."

"It's nice," Ban says, wondering why Akabane's wearing his long black coat in addition to the wide neckband – judging by the flash of bare chest and leg that the garment's revealing, he doesn't seem to have on anything else beneath it, and his imagination is already happily wandering off with that suggestion. "But you don't have to wear it. It looks heavy."

Akabane shakes his head. "Not as much as you think. Besides, it symbolizes a token of my fidelity to you. I would follow you wherever you lead, with or without any chains. This is my desire now."

He says something then, words from a strange ancient language Ban isn't familiar with, though he picks up on enough words to form a vague understanding that "my love for you is as boundless as the seas of blood a desert jackal must cross."

"I wasn't planning on that," Ban says wryly. "Although it would keep you within bounds on transport trips…"

Akabane's face is flush with pride. "You are concerned that altering our arrangement will change the way we feel about each other, no? I would not see you suffer so, Midou-kun. It displeases me. We are not rivals now, not enemies. I _choose_ to give myself to you…if you will have me?" he finishes on a soft, almost shyly hesitant note, as if expecting to be rebuked for his assertion of bloody romance.

Ban's fingers are itching to explore beneath that coat, to discover what his lover might – or might not – be wearing underneath its cloak of shadows. "I'll have you in more ways than you've ever dreamed of, if you'll just put the whole seduction bit on hold - "

Akabane smiles fondly, reaches out and gently taps Ban's mouth with his finger. "Not yet, dearest. First we must observe protocol. It's only proper, you see."

"Proper?" Confused, and not more than a little impatient, Ban watches as Akabane goes to the table where the violin lies and begins to unwrap the package. It's then that he notices two things about the other man's hands: they're gloveless, and the palms and nails are stained with what on first glance could easily be mistaken for blood. The henna paints a perfect pattern of designs along that pale skin, and the hairs on the back of Ban's neck rise.

He knows a magical setup when he sees it. He just isn't sure what kind of magic he's dealing with. Yet.

Akabane respectfully caresses the lustrous wood of the instrument. "It was so kind of Miss Otowa-san to loan us this, wasn't it?"

"So you did put her up to it. What's it for?"

"Us." Akabane rises and faces Ban. "Will you play it for me, Midou-kun? Please?"

Ban rakes a hand through his hair. He wants a cigarette. "Now? Akabane, look around. We're in the lap of luxury and you want to be serenaded?"

Purple eyes warm to the agitation in his voice. "Please?" Akabane repeats, his own voice growing softer. "You've never played for me before…"

Ban resists the urge to make his sigh sound as exasperated as he feels. "All right."

Akabane claps his hands together. "Thank you."

Ban picks up the violin and readies his stance, tapping the bow against his thigh. "Any particular requests?"

Akabane has moved to the cleared space in the center of the room. "Play the Devil's Trill for me?"

Ban makes a face. He would have to pick one of the most complicated pieces. But he shoulders the violin anyway. Keeping his eyes on the other man, wondering what Akabane's intentions are, he slides the bow across the strings as Akabane strikes a pose.

How curious. A dance? For him? In spite of his restless mood, Ban can't help but be intrigued by Jackal's plotting.

The Devil's Trill is a magnificent piece, as well as being one of the more difficult compositions to master, even for artisans as skilled as Madoka Otowa. But Ban is no stranger to self-teaching and persistence. The notes he coaxes from the violin are as pure and rich as any heavenly-ordained arrangement, and Akabane flows with the music as he performs a _sema_ for his lover's benefit.

Though the manipulation of bow and strings requires some degree of concentration, Ban is simultaneously struck by the inherent beauty of the jackal's movements. Even covered by the voluminous coat, Akabane's sleek strength is apparent. Most Arabic and Persian dances are governed by the mid- to upper-body and limbs, to convey a sense of transcendence of and communal with the spiritual rather than the material. The _bandari_ Akabane segues into is a unique blend of both, and it quickly escalates into something almost resembling a war dance.

Ban realizes that it is a story, the heart of the _sema_: a manifestation of ascent through the struggles of love, the discovery of a greater perfection than any ever hoped to achieve solely through the violence of battle.

Akabane whirls around his axis, spinning faster and faster, hair whipping in silky threads around his face and coattails flaring away from his legs. He holds his head high but does not look directly at Ban; indeed, he seems to behave as though Ban's not even there as he shimmies, arms undulating like a serpent when he raises them above his shoulders, hips snapping in a kind of pop-and-lock rhythm as he portrays the suggestion of aggression to be tamed. His back arches, flexes, and he rolls his abdominal muscles as he stalks the path, chest thrusting back and forward again while his bare feet plant one after the other.

It's a breathtaking display of courtship – and it takes on a whole new meaning to the word 'striking' when Akabane suddenly fans out scalpels in each hand.

"Do me a favor, dearest? Don't move."

--

TBC


	31. Bloody Rain Dance part 2

Title: Bloody Rain Dance (part 2)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #8 – "our own world"

Rating: R (m/m, adult content)

Warnings/Spoilers: See above.

Notes: See notes at the end of the fic for references. Thanks to Dinpik, Iksugui and Lady Bast for beta help. :)  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.  
Summary: It's not easy for Ban to trust, but snakes are nothing if not adaptable…and Ban's got a few surprises to adjust to when Akabane decides to spice up their relationship with a unique offering.

--

Before Ban can yelp any objections, Akabane spins around and whips knives at him faster than any card dealer's succession. The scalpels' aim is true; they land neatly in a close outline around Ban's form, and not once does a single one so much as nick his hair or clothing.

For once Ban's thankful that he's not the average person; otherwise he'd probably need to change his shorts at this point.

Inspiration comes to him, and he leaves off playing momentarily to gather up the scalpels and wing them back at Akabane with the same casual disregard. The smile blossoming on Kuroudo's face is proof of Ban's suspicions: an offer made with the hope of reciprocation.

They continue this mutual give-and-take, Akabane flinging blades at Ban while he plays, Ban catching them and hurling them back in between pauses of music. The dance is further embellished when Akabane makes a cut in each hennaed palm with a knife and blood sprays from his hands. But instead of spattering to the floor it curls and twists into shapes, gaining mass and separating into two distinct copies, then four, then six. The pseudo-Akabanes take up whirling circles around the real one, and they all gravitate around the center of the room in a concerted design.

Ban feels a peculiar sense of awe, a niggling of thought that he's seen this kind of thing before, somewhere…some time…but for the life of him he can't place it. It's mesmerizing. It's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen. Akabane reminds him of not only the darkness of the heart but its truth, its purity and strength which bring enlightenment, its eternal capacity to expand and hold the whole of human emotion beyond all known limitations.

Whereas Ginji's heart is the boundless joy of innocence and kindness, Akabane's is the passion, the fury of utter devotion that burns true for the one meant to wield its consuming flame. Both are equally important in the realm of human experience, for one teaches compassion while the other grants insight, and combined, these properties are invaluable strengths which bring true wisdom to the soul.

Akabane draws forth his Bloody Sword, and the bloodborne Akabanes do likewise. Seven crimson blades slice and carve the air as the dance incorporates their use; more blood flies but never touches anything save its owners' fingertips. The red veils shimmer and spiral at the Akabanes' command, before an unseen motion sends each lashing stream retreating neatly into the body of its origin.

Ban's stopped playing now, too entranced by the spectacle to be able to focus fully on the music. He slowly lowers the violin and sinks into the couch cushions, gaze firmly trained on the dancers.

More scalpels; these are clasped between the fingers and clicked together in rapid bursts like castanets. Akabane seems to be following a rhythm of his own making as he taps his feet against the floor in time with his blades.

The doppelgangers abruptly crowd around their leader, swords pointed high. As one they lock their weapons in a six-pointed star circled round the true Akabane's neck. There is a beat; a frozen pause – and then the swords suddenly withdraw all at once with a fierce hiss-scrape of blades while the real Akabane collapses to the floor.

Ban's heart leaps painfully in his chest before he realizes that it's just a simulation, not a real beheading, and that the fake Jackals are dissolving into bloody puddles that siphon in reverse flow back inside the transporter's body. One sword still remains, however, and it is this weapon of will that Akabane, who slowly rises from his crouch, carries over to Ban and presents to him in both upturned palms, kneeling with head bowed.

Ban's heart nearly stops.

Even if he hadn't been a witch, without the benefits of such extensive education in magical rites and spell-casting…it's still glaringly obvious: a formal betrothal proposition presented to him – recognized in the form of ancient art and ceremony.

_Ohh, Grandma, you old bag, you NEVER prepared me for anything like _THIS_..!_

It's not that he has anything against the whole idea or institution of marriage. He just hasn't ever really given it any serious thought, hasn't been able to see himself entering into such a covenant. Hell, he hasn't ever thought that he'd live long enough to garner any romantic entanglements, much less proposals. Matrimony in its current state is a gamble even in the best of times; a partnership bonded in the weaving of sacred ritual and yoked by two entities whose energies both complement and antagonize one another would be a union unparalleled by few others. Its promises, while significant, would come at great cost.

Ban isn't sure he can fulfill that price. He has a hard enough time as it is just making financial ends meet.

Ginji's earlier words return to haunt him: _Don't say it if you don't mean it._ Now he understands why Akabane had passed on that message. Don't accept my offering, don't accept _me_ if you're not willing to accept _everything_ – good _and_ bad, heaven and hell alike. Otherwise the meaning will be lost amidst empty promises.

Is he willing to set aside his own pride for his lover's sake?

_You're here, aren't you?_ a little voice pokes him from inside, a not-so-subtle reminder of what he'd agreed to weeks before. The last rebellion of panic rears at this, and Ban shoots to his feet, starts to tell Akabane off, to forget the whole idea, but his streak of honor rears its damned head and he finds himself unable to go back on his word. He'd promised…oh, hell. A bond _is_ a bond…

"Before I make my decision, I want to ask you something."

Akabane looks up cautiously, and Ban sees something there that he hadn't expected to find: naked fear. In a sense, his lover is risking his life in offering this very personal glimpse into his being. It's completely within Ban's power to soothe that terror, or crush all hope with nothing more than a few words – and they both know it. It's a staggering feeling, he realizes with a cold shiver, to have this much power and control over another person. Not even the Evil Eye can compare – that is just temporary illusion. Whatever answer he gives to this, its effects will be rendered permanent.

Ban works up saliva in his suddenly dry mouth. "Are you coming to me because you want what you think I can give you, or because you really want to enter into a pact with me of your own will?" He pauses, and adds quietly, "I'm warning you, Jackal. This is forever. I won't hold it against you if you back out, I swear. But I'm telling you now that I don't do these things halfway – it's all or nothing. Do you understand?"

Akabane's eyes have taken on a troubled cast, but he doesn't break their mutual gaze. In little more than a whisper, he answers. "When…when I first met you, I couldn't decide whose blood I wanted more, yours or Ginji-kun's. You were – are – both forces to be reckoned with. I couldn't decide who would best bring out my true strength. Every time I thought I'd made up my mind about one of you…the other would teach me something I'd never known before. But through it all…I couldn't help but always feel that _you_…that _you_ were my destiny. That you would see me for everything, and understand."

He offers Ban the sword again. "Somehow…learning the limits of my powers no longer holds the same sway for me as it used to. I still yearn to discover all that my strength can do. But more than that I long to pursue these dreams with you at my side. And…and if…if I never do learn the secrets of my power…sometimes, I think that…that I could live with that."

Akabane's eyes have turned to plum, a too-bright glitter warming their depths. "I only know now that being with you…relearning what it means to be alive…this is the most important thing to me. Bloodletting hasn't granted the same satisfaction or enjoyment since you came along. I don't know whether to thank you or curse you for that. But no matter what happens, I will always cherish you for trusting in me when no one else would care to bother."

The Bloody Sword awaits, its scarlet length fairly quivering in its owner's hands. It is a living thing in of itself, a weapon forged from sheer will to be wielded with singular purpose.

Ban has to bite his tongue for distraction, to dam up the flood of tears suddenly threatening to spill through his barriers. Again, the weight of holding another's fate in his hands presses upon him, his chest constricting and making it hard for him to breathe. Every word Akabane spoke is true – an oath reminiscent of things he and Ginji faced in their early days. Everyone needs something – some_one_ – to believe in.

They've both taken the greatest gamble of all – and each won priceless riches in return for what one offered to a stray Jackal, what the other gifted to a tempted serpent.

The sword is surprisingly solid when he lifts it. It warms almost uncomfortably in his grip, as if sensing that it is in worthy hands; a weapon that trusts its master as much as its master relies upon it. There was only one other time when he'd made its intimate acquaintance, and that occurred under less than ideal circumstances.

Up close, it's even more impressive, as he can see the stylized designs etched into its surface. The intriguing blend of craftsmanship highlights – among others, Ban recognizes an influence of medieval Knights Templar – makes for a very beautiful and deadly sword indeed. The hilt is smooth and supple to the touch; he runs careful fingers along the flat of the blade and finds this section equally as perfect. He dares to caress the vicious edges, and though they hiss dangerously against his skin they never once draw blood from their lethal kiss, as if honor-bound not to do so unless commanded.

Blood, however, will be necessary for this seal. Ban looks at Akabane, Akabane looks at him, and Ban starts undoing his shirt. He manages to get it off one-handed and pulls his tank top over his head.

Now stripped to the waist, he turns the point of the sword around and presses its tip into his skin until a thin ruby line spills out to mingle with the blade's own crimson. Slowly, ignoring the ice-hot sting of the self-inflicted wound, he carefully draws a cross outline over his right pectoral. As he does he hears the barest gasp of an indrawn breath. Akabane is looking at him with undisguised rapture; he isn't even trying any more to conceal the shine in his lavender eyes - but these tears aren't borne of pain.

The glowing blade seems to act as a needle, its hungry fang soaking up the offering, and Ban isn't entirely surprised to see the cut flesh knit itself together in red irritation shortly after he withdraws the weapon. He starts to lower the sword and, on a hunch, raises it once more and draws a second cross over his left pectoral. "For luck," Ban explains when Akabane raises a silent brow in questioning. He holds out a hand, and Akabane takes it as Ban helps him to stand.

Face to face, they regard each other as true equals, blood kin bound to each other through timeless ritual. Ban returns the sword to Akabane, who takes it by the handle and, after undoing his coat so that it hangs open and exposes his chest, uses the weapon to make the same cross-marks on his own flesh. The only difference is that these wounds evaporate almost as swiftly as they're created.

Akabane lifts the sword in both hands while they watch their combined blood stream down the length of it, as the drops are absorbed into the very core. "You see what I would do for you, my beloved?" he whispers reverently. "I would become weak for you, bidden to your desire, made strong by your will. For your desire is my dream, and together our pleasure shall be multiplied."

He withdraws the Bloody Sword completely, the flickering tongues of its burning blade disappearing in a singular ripple. Giving Ban a sultry smile, he takes his coat in both hands and pulls it in one swift motion from his body.

The coat drops to the floor with a muffled rustle, and Ban's jaw drops with an audible click.

The other man takes a slow step forward, and Ban's stare is immediately drawn to the way those slender hips beckon him with their subtle tension. The dim lighting makes Jackal's paleness both stark and inviting; the unbroken line of bare flesh is only interrupted by the tearing of scar tissue, and by the brief glints of metal bands shining against his arms, and the wisp of red fabric loosely draped across his thighs and hips that fails miserably at preserving his modesty.

He turns toward the tray of fruit and Ban eagerly traces the sleek lines of Akabane's torso and long legs with mental fingers, all anxiety fading in the wake of excitement which coils in the pit of his stomach as he notes the play of muscle stretched beneath the satiny, sweat-dewdropped skin, that breath of lethality, and the supple curves of twin cheeks offering a playful glimpse of the loincloth separating them beneath the paper-thin red linen kilt.

Screw this. Seduction and spellbinding can wait. Ban wants to rip away the flimsy scraps Akabane's wearing and fuck him into next week _now._

His right hand comes up just in time to latch onto a large strawberry that Akabane presents him with, as he turns to face Ban again. "Don't worry, Midou-kun. I promise that your appetite will be sated…completely," Jackal murmurs as he guides Ban's fingers and the berry into Ban's slack mouth.

Ban takes a moment to remember how to chew, and manages to get the fruit down his throat without choking on it. He starts to speak, to ask Akabane what the hell he thinks he's doing, and another berry is offered, and for the life of him he can't find a way to say no.

This treat is followed by a kiss, soft and tantalizing, firm in its intent as Akabane's tongue snakes inside Ban's mouth on the tail end of it. This is more like it, Ban decides, and he pulls Akabane closer to him, hands roaming eagerly over the warm bare skin, grasping and clutching, thrusting his hips against the other man's as he makes clear what he wants.

A light chuckle sends quivers of pleasure vibrating along his mouth. Akabane pulls back and smiles coyly. "My, my. Impatient, aren't we?"

Ban grins. "Not that I don't appreciate all the trouble you went to for me, but I think it's pretty obvious what we both want, don't you?"

Akabane's smile deepens. "Ah, but the feast is made all the more decadent when it is savored slowly instead of devoured straight away, hmm?" He slides his hands along Ban's body in his own possessive manner. "And tonight I intend for both of us to indulge our pleasure…thoroughly," he murmurs, biting down snugly on Ban's lower lip as he pulls away from their kiss.

Ban feels the throbbing nip all the way down in his groin. In spite of his lustful distress, he can't help but smile in chagrin. It's so very like Akabane's sense of decorum to proceed in an ordered fashion. First the formalities, then the fun - truly the hallmark of his mate's ingrained manners.

He groans. "You're killing me here, Kuroudo…"

Sweetly poisonous laughter throbs in his ear. "Oh, I haven't even begun to draw real blood, Ban-kun."

Akabane pushes him gently down into the couch, Ban sinking into the cushions with a stifled moan. He tries to pull Akabane down on top of him, but the other nimbly evades his grasp, shifting just out of reach. When he tries to grab him again, his fingers close over varnished wood.

"Mind Miss Otowa-san's violin," Akabane says as Ban stares at it in disbelief.

He withdraws to the center of the room while Ban's left with the violin he almost rolled over on top of. Ban carefully sets it well out of harm's way on one of the small tables and swings his attention back to his lover, who has produced a remote control from somewhere. A gradual thumping, increasing in pace and volume, fills the room with expectant energy and Ban watches while Akabane begins another dance.

All thoughts and notions of romance, of wooing one another, have flown out the window. The raw urgency of lust mesmerizes Ban in the blatant thrusting of Jackal's hips. So begins the consummation of their pact. Where the _sema_ is story-focused, the _banda_ is all about primal instinct. Pleasure is the central theme here, the celebration of nature's urges and the renewal of rebirth.

Akabane never was one for shame, but he's the utter definition of hedonistic now - rolling, twisting, gyrating, every move calculated to show off his form to peak perfection. The heat in his eyes every time he fixes that kohl-lined stare on Ban could roast anyone on the spot, such is the frank hunger simmering within. Ban has to remind himself to keep breathing.

It gets a lot harder to do so when Akabane breaks the invisible boundaries of his circle and dances right up to Ban.

He's not the only one feeling the heady rush of seduction in this dancing of the scars. Something – Ban doesn't want to think that it might just be Aesclepius – surges inside him that's responding to the raunchy playfulness of Akabane's invitation. His nostrils flare with the scent of fresh desire; a thunder pounds along his veins that's drowning out the stereo's bass beat. A red haze temporarily blinds him and consumes his mind with a compelling urge to tackle his mate and mount him, to sink bared fang into succulent flesh, claim him right here and now, mark him as _his_ forever.

Part of Ban senses that Akabane is not only well aware of this instinct, but would welcome it eagerly as proof of his mate's devotion, and another part of him suspects that this isn't wholly Jackal's craving but also an attribute of his own supernatural squatter. Such strength carries within it an implication of a violence Ban's not sure he can control even with the aid of the Serpent, and he forces himself to resist the unspoken squall within himself that bleeds for aggression.

Thankfully, as swiftly as the urge descends upon him, it leaves him as quickly, and he's left in a more or less normal state of arousal. The rush of blood leaving his head like that gives Ban a woozy feeling, and he has to grab onto the arm of the couch, or what he thinks is the couch, behind him, to avoid toppling to the floor from loss of balance –

Akabane surrounds him like a living blanket, purring tender poison into his ear. A scalpel flicks like lightning and nicks the outside of Ban's wrist, a tiny thread of blood beading to the surface.

"Ah, ahh," Akabane warns lightly.

He's not allowed to touch? No fair!

The hunter's amethyst dare boldly challenges him in its flame. Ban bites down on a strangled moan and clenches his fists at his side. If Akabane's aim is to work him into a bloody fever, he's succeeded masterfully, the son of a bastardly jackal.

Well, two can play that game. Ban can give every bit as good as he gets.

He listens to the music for a moment, finding his internal rhythm, and then storms into the circle where Akabane has taken up residence once more. They spin and twist around each other, coming perilously close to touching several times, but not once do they make actual contact – much though one of them desperately wants to. Body heat, musky scent, electric clash of eyes – they all issue irresistible siren songs to debauchery.

Ban's no fool. He keeps his hands to himself. He knows there are rules to this game. Breaking them could have consequences he has no taste for. It's frustrating as all-get-out, but curiosity has the better of him now and he's anxious to see where this danse macabre leads. Curiosity may kill cats, but the lure of satisfaction always brings them back…

…and if the ravenous gleam in Akabane's sultry gaze is any indicator, there will be a veritable _feast_ of pleasure ahead, if Ban can just hold out through this preliminary..!

The whirlwind escalates, the two lovers now so close they're just a breath away from each other, moving in tandem, serpentine bodies swaying and swinging, thrusting and writhing, both of them displaying their prowess to one another in that most primitive of mating rituals. Ban's small relief is that he's having just as much of an erotic effect on Akabane as the other is him: the tiny sparks of excitement in those purple eyes, a flick of a pink tongue's tip against moist lips, the bob of throat muscles all give Jackal's desire away. The only thing separating iron control from impulsive frenzy is Akabane's insistence on a certain chain of command.

Ban hears himself speak, and it's as if a stranger's voicing the request. His words are low, husky, vibrating with urgency. They can taste fulfillment on each other's hot breath, can drink the sweet nectar of lust from each other's sweat. "Come on, Jackal. I think we both know what we want now, don't you?"

"Let me love you," comes the murmured response. "Let me pleasure you as I've always wanted, dreamed of, and in return you may ask of me anything you desire, my beloved. Anything at all. If it is within my power, I shall gladly grant it to you. I belong only to you now. And you belong only to me."

With that, Akabane seizes Ban's head in both hands and presses himself fully against him, sealing his mouth to Ban's in a torrid kiss.

The bleeding river of their desire explodes through the dam in a supernova rush. All semblance of control is burned away to ashes as they grab and nip and claw at each other, barreling over furniture – the stereo gets knocked into silence at one point - with a racket in their attempt to storm the bedroom. Ban isn't even sure they'll make it that far – Akabane's already sliced his pants to ribbons, and he's shredding the sheer linen wrap around his mate's hips; now if he can only figure out how that damned collar unhooks – they're both so worked up into mania from Jackal's erotic prelude.

Habit spurs Ban into pushing Akabane towards the bed, intending to capture him in their usual manner. But Akabane is quick to interrupt the sequence by squirming away, and Ban remembers then.

"Your word," Kuroudo says softly, the shine in his eyes muted by sudden solemnity, as if expecting Ban to suddenly renege on what they had previously agreed upon.

Chest clenching with an all-too-familiar anxiety, Ban forces his nerves to stand down. He _did _promise. It's not as if they don't know each other well enough by now. It doesn't mean that things will change between them…

…will it?

Ban coughs. "Just a minute," he says gruffly, holding up a finger to placate his lover, and leaves the bedroom to retrieve a necessary component to this equation.

The box is still sitting where he left it. On the coffee table next to the dessert platter, it seems so innocent, ridiculous, even. Its lacquered black surface is decorated with garish, grinning koi swimming over the edges. It looks more suited to a child's toy box. Such is Maria's twisted sense of humor, he thinks.

That it _is _a toy box of sorts is apparent, when Ban lifts it and hears the muffled clink inside. He opens it and gives the contents a brief but baleful look before closing the lid and taking the whole thing back to the bedroom.

Adult games are not as simple as they seem, and adult toys sometimes complicate matters.

He'd prepared for this occasion. When Akabane sees the box, his eyes widen slightly in recognition, because what's inside was once used on him not so long ago, and for much the same reason Ban's about to request that it be used on _him._

"Midou-kun – "

"Put these on me. Key's in there too. I'll show you how to work the magic," Ban growls as he hauls the manacles out of the box and tosses them onto the bed.

Akabane looks startled. He makes no move to obey, and instead presents a somewhat bewildered look. "But why – "

"Hurry up and do it before I change my mind," Ban mutters through gritted teeth. "'Cause if you _don't_ do it, I'm liable to take your head off otherwise." He sets the empty box on the nightstand and approaches Akabane. "Look. I promised you. I know what I signed up for and I don't have any doubts about it. But instinct is a different can of worms. This is as much for my safety as it is for yours." He picks up the manacles again and holds them out. "Put them on me."

Akabane hesitates before slowly coming closer. He extends a hand, reaches out to touch the bindings that Ban holds…and gently pushes them away. He leans in and brushes his lips over Ban's in a heartbeat of a whisper.

"I trust you, Ban-kun."

A flutter of something like sweet pain makes Ban's chest ache, and he shakes his head. "But _I _don't, Jackal." He swallows hard. "Please. I don't want to hurt you. Not like this…"

"I would treasure every pain you bring me, my darling. Because you are alive, with me." Akabane still looks confused, but seems more accepting of the responsibility being requested of him. "But if it worries you this much, then I'm sure we can still play together under the limitations you wish to impose." He steps back and divests himself of the cumbersome neckband, and then the bracelets on his arms and ankles, and finally, the loincloth. Naked, Ban's Jackal is all sinewy, lean strength, supple skin and firm planes - a veritable temptation of dangerous curves in more ways than one, a very attractive and desirable man indeed.

And, lest he forget, a very _lethal _man. Ban isn't exaggerating about the cuffs being equal protection for the both of them. His own patron, he isn't too worried about, but the other that lies waiting inside Akabane is certain to pick up on what his lover intends and may well attempt to carry it beyond acceptable limits. Aesclepius would retaliate, and their consummation would devolve into brutal fashion. Ban's never liked romance epics that ended in tragedy.

He concentrates on their soon-to-be shared pleasure instead of the risk, as he awkwardly strips off his underwear, leaving him as bare as Akabane. He takes a deep breath and offers his arms while Akabane reaches for the cuffs. "How do you want them – back or front?"

"Front. It will be easier for the both of us."

Akabane listens as Ban explains the mechanics of the lock. It's simple enough, if one knows the trick. He cradles Ban's hand in his, lifts it back side up to his mouth and spreads gentle kisses over its width, caressing the callused knuckles with his lips as reverently as if each one was a precious gem.

Ban watches him with hooded eyes as Akabane turns the hand over and nuzzles the palm before progressing with his oral appreciation of Ban's wrist and arm. When he reaches the upper shoulder Akabane stops, looks up and smiles warm reassurance. Ban has the distinct impression that he's not just being admired, he's being adored, cherished, _worshipped,_ and though the notion of such homage is disquieting, it isn't altogether unpleasant. He shivers, but it's more a self-distraction than an honest reaction.

Akabane places one opened manacle over Ban's right wrist. The audible snap as the brace is clicked shut seems so much louder in the finality it signals: no turning back now. Ban swallows another lump of anxiety as he lifts his other hand…

…only to have it ignored by Akabane, who raises his own hand and calmly attaches the other manacle to his left wrist as if it's one of the bronzed pieces he just removed moments ago.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"If you insist on holding back, then so will I," Akabane says. "Now, hobbled equally, we are on level ground. For either of us to use our powers at a moment of weakness would be inconceivable. If we are to fight, it must be to the fullest, without illusions, without hesitation, without regrets. That is the only real way to discover each other's true strength, as befitting two champions."

Ban thinks this over. Then he says, "We haven't even consummated this deal yet and already you're issuing edicts. Trust you to give new meaning to the phrase 'ball-and-chain.'"

Akabane blinks at him, processing the words. They both burst out laughing, nervousness and amusement combining into an acknowledgment of each other's thoughts. "Oh, Midou-kun. Much though I enjoy it, I fear that incorrigible humor of yours will be the death of you in the wrong situation some day…"

"Maybe, maybe not," Ban says, shrugging. "If it does, it'll be par for the course. I may as well get in my shots while I'm still alive to enjoy it."

A curious Akabane tilts his head. "Isn't that rather reckless of you?"

"All the more reason for me to do it," Ban says. "Nothing says fun like a pissed-off enemy when the chips are down."

Akabane chuckles. "Is that why you enjoy taunting Fud – "

Ban puts a finger to the other's lips. "Let's not ruin a beautiful moment by bringing up The Thing That Would Not Die."

Akabane smiles tolerantly. "You're right. We have better things to do with our time." He draws Ban in close, bodies together, and nibbles tender kisses at his mouth. "Come and have a warm little death with me, my beloved Serpent Bearer."

--

He isn't sure what he'd thought possession would be like, but this isn't anything like his dreams. It's scary, yes, and it's uncomfortable only because it's unpredictable, and it's teetering on a potential slippery slope of deadly passion that even he hadn't anticipated.

It's also exciting as hell.

"Ahh...Kur – ohh - do..."

"You can bear this, my _nefermerer," _soothes Akabane in that sinister, melodious voice of his as he continues to loom overhead, painting his way across Ban's body. "Because you are strong. Because you are divine. Because you are mine."

It's driving him crazy. These tickles of sensation, they're everywhere, uncannily seeking out his most sensitive points, tormenting him with promises of both heaven and hell. Ban grits his teeth and rolls his eyes skyward. He dredges up the first random thoughts that come to mind, to have a focus and keep from tumbling overboard into that ocean of intensity, but summons of Paul and dumpster-diving and shower curtain mold don't seem to have much of an effect. He shuts his eyes momentarily, holds his breath and reaches for the worst – the monkey trainer naked – and that helps a little in taming his libido, at least enough that he isn't on the verge of losing himself before he's good and ready.

With his senses lowered a notch, Ban tunes in again to the rhythmic words Akabane is chanting as he works, trying to decipher the ancient spell – and it is a spell; the words are too mesmerizing, too measured and exotic, for it to be anything but. His knowledge of tongues long dead and forgotten to all but those well versed in them is a bit rusty, but memory nudges his inner translator along, and he can understand the gist of what his newly-bonded mate is declaring:

"_Tuau tchet fet hefi sahu, seherit hai bekek."_

_My adored serpent-master, you drive away my pain and my weariness._

Akabane dips the tip of his scalpel into the pool of red in his cuffed hand, and draws another series of elegant scripts over Ban's stomach, trailing the end lines down his thigh.

"_Akeb rem men amem, kharu kek bethet, sentu bekek utcha set ab." _

_I wept and despaired in my misery, raged at the darkness of death, feared the weakness in the desert of my own heart._

Two pairs of eyes glitter together in the subdued lighting; shared desires resonating in the care, the intricacies given to the task at hand. Nothing less would be expected from professionals of their caliber. Ban gives in and sets free a strangled moan as Akabane writes another verse along his chest, under his nipple.

"_Netri aba, meru metu hekai; smam ab pet nesert thetet aufi ba, sankh ant, urt-ab; hekau sankh senf."_

_Your divine desire, such enchanting toxin; you stilled my heart in your heavenly fire and then claimed me, body and soul, and revived me from my destruction, from death; you bring life to my blood once more. _

The bloody ribbons of calligraphy quiver as their beads dapple and caress Ban's skin, but never once do they slip out of place, nor do they stain what they ought not to. Akabane is a discriminating, territorial lover. He won't permit such a disgrace. This poetry is reserved for Ban alone, each drop, each word, dedicated to him completely. Ban arches with a growl as a line traces itself down the length of his throat, over his chest, curling towards his abdomen, and hovers teasingly above his groin, while Akabane's whispers grow more impassioned.

"_Ennu ten-ten utcha, saa tebi nekhtu khu; maat heteptu useru heh smam. Enti shu em bet, ka, utcha, khent. Enti aui shu em bet ab, pet tut kek shu enti hefi, heh kek pet shepsi khaibit qentet hatu." _

_Never have I seen such incredible strength, such skill and might of spirit; this is the true satisfaction of power I have longed for in my endless defeat. Truly, you are without fault, my equal, my strength, my joy. Were I without sin, any heaven would be hell without you, and any hell would be paradise so long as you remain with me._

Something slips beneath him, and Ban feels a sudden squirming flicker against his balls. He hisses, and the sensuous tickle goes away...only to reappear even further south -

"Kuroudo!" Ban grunts through clenched teeth, the sweat stinging his eyes as it rolls over his forehead, the pressure in his lower regions nearly unbearable now as the devious little contrivance wiggles its way between his buttocks and holy mother of Medusa is it oh yes it is he can't believe it but damned if it doesn't set his blood to racing like he hasn't felt in ages! He digs with his unchained hand into the bedsheets and clutches the wrist that he's cuffed to with his other hand, riding a perilously thin line between merely crunching the bones and snapping them outright. "I'm losing it here..!"

"Patience is a virtue, my darling," hushes Akabane, whose eyes are alight with a strange passion that's both eerie and erotic in its purple-red fire. He kisses Ban's mouth, nudges his hand with a new scalpel to encourage him to lessen his grip, and continues crooning that guttural language of magic, mystery, and desert moons. _"Netri shepsi, hatu, aba thes amenu kek rekhit. Metis, qentet aufi senf khu netri thetet! Seherit tchet fet pui tu bethet. Qentet heteptu thehu aba. Metis smam pui tu shepsi gen kharu, utcha heteptu. Abu khaibit, merer, senenti mert urt-ab sau meket ankh ant. Thes tchetta er neheh, ba, ankh, ab-mert!" _

_Therefore I make this vow before all gods unseen, all spirits, both those of darkness and of light. With this knife, let me devote body and blood and spirit to you completely! Let me drive away every foul step of death that stalks you. Let me be the one to satisfy your dreams and desires. Let my blade defeat all thy enemies in holy vengeance, and let my strength become your pleasure. Let me stay at your side always, my beloved, loving you unto death and protecting you from all harm. This I swear for all eternity, upon my soul, my life, my heart! _

It begins as a whirlpool, gathering itself into the budding storm, rising, building, cresting into a surge of internal flame that both consumes and fuels itself, winding and twisting around the two of them until they are helplessly caught up in its tethers, rocking and writhing together. Ban can't stifle a yelp of surprise when one of the living ribbons suddenly whips upward and wraps itself with a gentle tug around his erection, and then crosses over to twine in equal lengths about his mate's. The bloodlines circle their prisoners' bodies, pulling up, tighter over each limb, squeezing a constrictor's embrace that's just slack enough to allow for breath, and then they slither playfully along each man's skin, undulating in ripples that lap satin pleasure in their wake.

"Uh-uh-uh-yeah-uh - " Ban's vaguely aware that he's not making any sense, but he can't think clearly enough any more to form intelligent verse. He's sailing over that edge, going to slam into that tidal wave head-first, and he's hitting it _hard_.

Akabane's scalpel has receded, though the wound in his hand has not, and he grasps the hand to which he is tied, strength entwining with strength, his free hand snaking around inasmuch as the bindings will permit to tangle his fingers in Ban's hair and press him close for one last kiss before dying, even while his throaty siren song is spilling over into its ecstatic crescendo.

"_Teben-na, s-aakhu akhakh_

_Ha khenu-na her-ab ankh-t_

_As bak seb ankh_

_Ab en netri set-heh_

_Anet-hra-k ser er neheh, Seru se Nesert hefi!_

_Anet-hra-k ser er sehetch, seru her-ib ukha!_

_Amenu unnut-f nebtet kerh, sem-a ib-a en maa-f rem -_

_Ent ab-utcha maat ba-a pu netjer, ba-a puh senkheh ab_

_A anen makhent ent hefi rut aqi-k em mehit em khent-ek er Se-mesert em neter-khert meruu_

_Arit kheperu em ertu mut em neteru em sekeru_

_Enti ta sutenit ha-ta s-khemu ha-ta aaui tchetta er-neheh amen!"_

_About me, the shining stars of flame_

_And within me is thy Divine heart of living fire_

_Thy soul is a living star_

_And thy heart of radiant everlasting fire_

_Homage to thee, Prince of eternal Serpents!_

_Homage to thee, prince of light in darkness!_

_Within night and darkness, I have come humbled to thee -_

_In your truth I am made glorious, I am made pure_

_Hail to you who is strong even before the terror of the grave_

_For you restore life to all blood_

_And yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever-lasting amen!_

Right before the white nova obliterates him Ban feels the barest brush of the spidery idea skittering over his mind -

_- necromancer! -_

- and its murmur passes faster than light itself, lost amidst their avid echoes and the fading stardust embers of a dream birthed into reality, a new plane of existence created, and shared by, a serpent and his jackal:

No illusions. No hesitation. No regrets. Only...each other. And that is all they need in this brave new world.

--

When he drifts back to consciousness Ban blinks away the fuzziness of recovery, half-wondering if what he just experienced is real. A quick glance shows him that although the blood runes have vanished without a trace, and so has the palette from which Akabane drew them, the metal link binding them is very much solid, and so is the embrace that Akabane has him clasped in as they lie side by side.

His movement has stirred the other man, and Kuroudo lifts a heavy eyelid and smiles drowsy contentment at his mate. "Mmmm...Ban-kun...did you enjoy that as much as I did?"

"Enjoy it? That was fucking amazing!" Even now, Ban can still feel the flickering cinders within bundle up their charred remnants for a possible encore. He's stumped as to how Akabane was able to make them both climax without ever touching – with his hands, anyway - either man's flesh. "As in, amazing fucking. Where the hell did you learn all that?"

Akabane chuckles naughty delight; his voice is softer than normal, probably because he's still hoarse from all the casting he did. "Wouldn't you like to know. Surely you can't expect me to confess all my secrets at the height of our mutual orgasm."

"I'll choke it out of you with my bare hands if I have to," Ban threatens, not seriously. "This was one hell of a setup, Kuroudo." He laughs and it comes out shaky, not out of any anxiety but because he hasn't yet regained his inner equilibrium. "Should've known you were up to no good when you sent that wench Himiko to deliver me..."

"I shall take that as a compliment," Akabane replies, nuzzling Ban's nose. "In truth, you have made me very happy, Ban-kun. I only pray that I may return such a treasured favor."

"You could start by giving me another demonstration of your physical talents, on my lap," Ban leers. "Since when did you know how to do ritualistic dance?"

"Since I was taught by my mother."

Before Ban can complete his startled open-mouthed expression the smiling Akabane strokes his face. "You should take up dancing, Ban-kun. It's just like fighting, except without the blood. But it's still fun. The principles can easily be applied to a battle. A sense of balance is essential to a good fight, don't you think?"

Questions are dancing with considerably less grace throughout Ban's head right now, not the least of which is one directed at the other's candid admission of possible relatives. Akabane is indeed a keeper of many secrets, and tends to disclose or withhold them depending on the whimsy of his mood at any given moment. Prying this one from him is going to take some work, but isn't that what a retriever is for, if he's any good?

Ban settles for starting with the most obvious, and working his way down from there. "Not bad for a novice. I'll give you credit, at least, for figuring out a way to adapt the spell to be compatible for our purposes. It must've taken you hours to research all that, let alone practice it until you got the sequence down cold."

"Not necessarily," Akabane says, a familiar edge creeping along his smile. "I did require a bit of research, but the practice itself isn't difficult, especially when one relies on instinct and experience."

Hair jumps on the back of Ban's neck. "I don't think I like where this is going."

"Now, now," Akabane soothes. "It isn't as terrible as you might think. I was trained by the best, after all. Mama was very strict about proper instruction. Had I been apprenticed, I might well have attained her level of skill, but both she and my father wanted me to become a physician."

"I _definitely_ don't like where this is going."

"It doesn't matter anyway, in the end," Akabane says with a little shrug. "I was not meant to be either a sorcerer or a healer. I found the calling that is best suited to me. I am a transporter." He sifts his fingers through Ban's hair. "And you too are what you were created to be - a retriever." His eyes instantly light up with mischievous thought. "We should merge our respective services into a single entity, hmm? I could be your escort _and_ your protector while you and Ginji-kun did the retrieving. You would be guaranteed never to lose any money again because of some careless oversight! Think of all the excitement we could have, taking on any opponents we desire!" He trembles with barely contained inspiration. "And on those long trips when it got boring, we could withdraw and spend the time entertaining ourselves - "

"Akabane," Ban says slowly, carefully, as he stops Kuroudo's imagination from running wild with mission fantasies. "Do you realize what you just did?"

Akabane blinks, still wound up in the throes of his enthusiasm. "Of course."

"You instigated a bonding spell that gives me direct control over you." Ban stares, bewildered as to how Akabane can remain so calm and pleased. "All I have to do is invoke a certain incantation, and I can command you to do anything I want. Anything," he repeats, a slight urgency growing in his tone. "That's what it means to bond with a witch. That's why I warned you not to enter this oath lightly."

Akabane just tilts his head and smiles. "I know."

"So?"

"So what?"

"So how can you just lie there and grin and be so casual about it?!" Ban nearly yells as he sits up, almost dislodging the other man. "Don't you get it, Jackal? This is serious shit we're talking. I can harness your spirit and make you storm down the entire fortress of Mugenjou if I wanted. I could compel you to slit your throat with your own knives for my amusement, if that was my wish. It's more than just a coupling ceremony, Akabane. It's a petition for voluntary enslavement that's bound in blood, unbreakable until death do us literally part. There's no counter-spell for it. I couldn't undo the magic even if either of us wanted to back out now. Neither can Maria, and she's the most powerful caster that I know of in the area." He rakes a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "I told you this was forever."

The smile dissipates and a pair of eyes, already darkened by smudged kohl liner, lower in dampened thought. Akabane sighs and crawls upon him once more, cradling Ban in his arms.

"Midou-kun...I understand only too well what it means to be at the behest of a disappointing contract. I do not regret ever signing such, but I am not content to sit back and allow its fate to dictate all the terms to me. I prefer to negotiate my own covenants. As, I'm sure, do you." Purple eyes slowly rest on weary blue ones. "A match made in heaven...or hell, if you like. Either way, we have chosen to travel this path upon the crossroads of life together, and we shall complete our journey – together. You could have stopped me at any time. I would have honoured your desires regardless of any cost to me. But even knowing the risks, and in spite of history's insistence, you still chose me...as I chose you."

Akabane folds his body around Ban's more securely, tucking his beloved's head against a scarred shoulder as tenderly as any precious object.

"I'm not questioning your intentions, Kuroudo," Ban says quietly after a while. "I know you've got your reasons too. I just don't understand why someone as mercenary as you would willingly, even eagerly, put himself in hock to another from the same school, even as crazy about each other as we are. We're both strong-willed creatures," he says, looking up at Akabane, and they both impulsively smile at that. "It's not gonna be easy, you know. I'll want to do one thing, and you'll try to do another...we could be looking at some real blowouts..."

"And why do you think the ancients kept their arrangements? Warriors throughout the ages have bound themselves to one another, and for the same reasons that you and I were drawn to each other. But we are more than mere kindred, now." Akabane kisses Ban. "I have been watching you, Ban-kun. I know that there is always a reason behind your every action. I may not understand those reasons, but you have always kept your promises to me, and you have always granted our battles with dignity. I only wish to do the same for you in any capacity. I am honoured to be your companion...or your weapon." He frames Ban's face in his hands, smiling gently. "What more must I say or do to prove to you that this is my will? I choose this path because I trust you. For no other would I willingly bleed so."

Ban is deeply touched by his lover's sentiments, so much so that for a while he can't speak, thinking that his voice will break and he'll wind up making a fool out of himself. But then, he supposes, he's already done that a long time ago. Might as well go the full distance. It will take him a while to get used to it - this trust business has never come easy for him. But if a Jackal can do it, so can he, and he waits, cushioned in Akabane's arms, letting his heart settle back to a semi-normal rhythm and his jumbled thoughts get reorganized before risking speech again.

"Only one other person ever swore that kind of loyalty to me. We didn't exactly use a spell, but whatever it was between us – it worked for him," Ban says. "He sucks at keeping his end of the bargain. He's a pain in the ass, eats all the food, acts like a damn goofball more often than not, gets himself into the most indescribably stupid messes that inevitably cost me a ton of money every time I have to bail him out..." He sighs. "But he's worth it. Every single aggravation and headache, it all comes down to what he's really worth versus those temporary inconveniences, and I wouldn't trade him for all the security in the world."

Akabane gives him a puzzled frown. "What are you saying?"

Ban answers him with a resigned smile. "I'm saying that you drive me insane, but I'm keeping you anyway 'cause I can't imagine living without you. So don't screw up," he warns, only half-joking. "Good consorts are hard to find these days. They don't usually come with a set of portable kitchenware either."

Akabane laughs merrily, burying his face against Ban's neck as he holds him tighter, closer. "I do not make mistakes on any mission I undertake. I am - "

" - a professional," Ban finishes, rolling his eyes. "Professional _what,_ is my only question."

He sprouts a rakish grin that's promptly answered with a swat of his own hand, when Akabane unthinkingly lifts his own to chastise him and metal clinks loudly. "Ow!"

"Oh, we forgot about those."

"Do you think?!"

"I'm sorry, Midou-kun," Akabane says, stroking the side of Ban's face where he'd accidentally whacked himself. "But that comment was uncalled for," he adds with mock sternness.

"Hey, you knew what you were getting when you got involved with me," Ban fires back. "Deal with it." He sees Akabane smiling then, and he knows that smile from its one thousand and one other variants. His eye twitches. "What's so funny?"

"I have decided exactly how I am going to 'deal with it,' my lovely Ban-kun."

Ban starts to sit up again and finds himself being rolled onto his back with Akabane on top. "I thought we were gonna do something about this tug-of-war we're stuck in," he growls lightly. "Get the key so I can undo us, Jackal."

Akabane is perfect smugness. "No."

"Why the hell not!?"

Sinuous strength blankets his body as a hungry mouth presses him into the mattress, intent on devouring his flesh. "I like having you at my mercy."

For once, Ban doesn't mind the indignity of defeat.

--

It's well into the early morning hours as a robed and somewhat drunken Ban sneaks along the hotel corridors, intent on filching some snacks from one of the bellboys working late shift. He spies an unattended cart laden with breakfast goodies, and makes a fast beeline for it, when an arm flung out by the corner of the wall thuds into his midsection.

"Himiko! You little - what are you still doing here?" Ban hisses, trying not to wake anybody. He isn't sure how well he succeeds because the champagne's definitely soaked his brain.

She smirks as she comes around the corner to face him. "Keeping an eye on you. How'd it go?"

"How'd what go?"

She gives him a look. "You know. Did Akabane propose?"

Ban stares at her while her words sink in. Then his hand shoots out to throttle her. "You two-timing transporting perfume-huffing hussy!"

She erupts into muted snickering. "He did, didn't he! And you accepted!"

"You _knew_ all along what was going to happen and you _lied_ straight-faced to me about it!"

"Serves you right for being such a pain in the – "

" - Why I oughta – "

Unfortunately for Ban fratricide will have to wait. The bellboy's returned for his cart, and he gives the squabbling guests an odd look before a Jagan from Ban convinces him that his late hours are playing havoc with his vision. He trundles off none the wiser, and Ban and Himiko resume their semi-hostile standoff.

"Cool off, Ban. I didn't know exactly what he'd do. I suspected something was up when Akabane stopped by my place unannounced the other day," Himiko finally says, her smugness at Ban's ire still ripe. "He asked me if I'd grant him permission to make an important request of you."

"He what?" Ban growls.

"Basically, he asked my permission to officially make you his permanent companion." Himiko looks very amused by this news.

Ban scratches his head. "What the hell would he do a dumb-assed thing like that for?"

Himiko makes a face at him. "It's not so surprising. You know what a stickler he is for good manners. Besides, I think it's very thoughtful of him to ask. You know if it were the other way around you'd be demanding that my future husband ask you for my company."

"That's different!"

"Hmph!"

"I don't believe this." Ban snorts, caught between helpless laughter and impotent annoyance. "What'd he do, get down on bended knee and ask for my hand in marriage?"

A smile overtakes Himiko's mouth. "Actually, he did."

The image of those romantic endeavors now fresh in both their minds, they can't help but share a good laugh over the jackal's quest. Only Akabane would consider old-fashioned traditions to be of utmost importance when pursuing a potential mate in business and pleasure. Ban feels like he's been tossed head over heels twice over on some wild theme park ride and his insides are still reeling from the emotional roller coaster. What has he gotten himself into this time?

Does he have any regrets?

Hell no. It'll be...interesting...

"Now I know where you get it from," he tells Himiko. "You're almost as bad as he is!"

She isn't fazed in the slightest, even appearing proud at the dubious designation. "Your point being?"

"One thing's for sure," Ban swears solemnly. "_I_ wear the pants in this family, and by every star-crossed constellation in existence, that Jackal of mine is gonna know it!"

"Ban-kun?" trills a gentle purr from behind him.

They stare, eyes widening for different reasons as a sleepy, hair-tousled and half-naked Akabane drifts towards Ban, enveloping him in a snug embrace. The other transporter greets his lover with a possessive kiss, and nuzzles his neck.

"Thought you were still sleeping," Ban manages to say without tripping over his tongue, and ruffles the other's hair affectionately.

"I got cold without my favorite blanket." Akabane raises his head and smiles drowsily at Himiko. "Hello, Himiko-san." He looks at Ban. "Would you come back to bed, Ban-kun?"

"Just as soon as I get some food here - " Ban breaks off when he sees four bright points clicking together only inches from his face.

"Now," Akabane insists sweetly, the shine of steel in his half-lidded eyes brooking no argument.

"Whose authority is running things here, again?" Himiko laughs wickedly while a sheepish Ban lets himself be herded back into the privacy of the suite.

--

For this job they've taken on additional baggage:

The transporter is a necessary evil. They're trolling some of the seedier districts downtown, looking for an item the Get Backers were hired to retrieve. Because this item is worth quite a bit of money, and because many of the underworld thieves and thugs like to case the area looking for fresh marks, the presence of one very notorious Doctor Jackal is an extremely useful deterrent against trouble. Ban and Ginji pass unmolested through the ranks of criminal hierarchy with little effort.

The yakuza informant is their tool on this mission. Kou – the only name he gave upon their meeting – knows the avenues to take, knows people who know more specific information concerning the item's location. His presence, while useful, is markedly less appreciated than the Jackal's, for Kou has made clear that he expects an obscene share (in Ban's opinion) of the retrieval fee in exchange for the aid he's providing.

A hand sidles around his waist, which is promptly batted away like an annoying mosquito. Kou has also taken a liking to Ban's brooding good looks and makes no bones about it as he attempts to entice the object of his desire.

Ban isn't inclined to encourage this, and not just because that nasal whine is grating on his nerves. The more flirtatious the man's smile turns, the longer he lets his arm or his hand linger on Ban's shoulder whenever – frequently! – he touches, or rather, tries to touch him, the greater the tension increases in the air. Ginji finds himself in the unenviable position between his partner and his partner's carnivorous-minded mate, and he's sweating bullets each time Kou lobs a double entendre at Ban, Ban rebuffs it with a sour grunt, and Akabane smiles arctic ice at the man hitting on his lover. Like the stench of gasoline as it douses tinder, so does Jackal's agitation kindle, and everyone except Kou smells danger about to spark.

Ban waits until they're taking dinner at a restaurant and Akabane politely excuses himself to fetch drinks for their group. Then he seizes the informant's wrist and twists it hard. "Back the fuck off now," he hisses. "Or my boyfriend will kill you."

The other man winces at the grip, but laughs, not in the least bit perturbed by either threat. "That skinny creep? Are you sure you wouldn't like someone a little higher up on the pecking order? I don't make my offers lightly, you know. Turning me down might be the mistake of your lifetime." His smirk is tinged with the hint of an offer few have been able to refuse – not necessarily out of mutual desire.

Ginji fidgets in his seat. "Ban-chan's _serious,_ Kou-san. You _don't_ wanna piss off Akabane-san."

"Forgive me if I'm skeptical over the advice of a boy who doesn't look like he's even popped his first facial hair," Kou chuckles rudely. "I think I can handle that beanpole without _your_ help."

Ban and Ginji exchange bemused glances over the insult. Obviously this guy's never heard of Raitei. Or Dr. Jackal either, for that matter.

_Fine,_ Ban mouths to Ginji when Kou isn't looking their way. _Let this jerk learn the hard way._ Ginji doesn't look too thrilled about leaving the lecherous man to his doom, but he understands that now is not the time to argue about it and keeps his mouth shut. Luckily the arrival of food quickly distracts his attention from the impending J-storm, and he forgets all about the sealed fate of their unwelcome companion in the unfurling wake of sticky rice and grilled beef.

They share a meal and more innuendoes and exchange information (and money, albeit quite reluctantly), and Kou eventually leaves to ply his wiles on someone more appreciative of them. Just before Ban's getting ready to settle their bill with the wait-staff, Akabane asks to be excused in order to make sure that Ginji hasn't wandered off outside and gotten lost. Ban agrees, not wanting to spend any more time in this dump having to track down other things besides the intended objective. Ginji could get lost in a padded room.

He pays the bill and decides it's time for a smoke break before rejoining his partner and his lover. With a helpful gesture of direction by one of the employees, Ban makes his way to the back of the restaurant.

As he steps outside into the alley, a fresh scent hits his nostrils. He inhales it, letting the cool night air settle in his lungs, and that's when he gags on the underlying stink of blood carried aloft by the breeze.

Ban follows the scent to its source and discovers the body of their informant at the end of the corridor, scarlet seeping from the huge J slashed into his back. Judging by the surprised grimace frozen onto Kou's features, he never saw it coming…but then, the vast majority of Jackal's victims don't.

Ban studies the corpse for a moment before walking away, feeling no guilt. He'd warned the guy, after all.

Coming back around to the front, he spies Ginji and Akabane patiently waiting for him. They're discussing whether chocolate is better by itself or dribbled in syrup over vanilla ice cream. Ginji pounces on Ban with a hug. Akabane is more restrained but no less affectionate, planting a light kiss on Ban's cheek and winding his arm possessively around Ban's so that they can discreetly hold hands as they walk. A flicker of recognition and acknowledgment passes from purple to blue eyes, but nothing is said. Some discussions are best saved for later.

"Where's Kou-san, Ban-chan?"

"I told him to get lost after he tried to grab my ass again." Knuckles crack as Ban flexes his right fist.

Ginji looks for a second as though he can't decide whether or not to accept this simple explanation – his subconscious knows better, as it has ever since the start of the night, but for sanity's sake, he conveniently pushes that doubt aside with his usual sunny determination. "Wow. He was a real pervert, wasn't he, Ban-chan?"

"Yeah."

Still holding Akabane's smoothly-gloved hand, Ban slings an arm around Ginji's shoulder, and the three of them start the trek back to their respective homes.

Reaching more familiar grounds, it takes but a few minutes for Ban to send his sweetly bumbling comrade on his way, with the promise of an ice cream day at the beach soon, to which Ginji happily agrees. They part in the hall of their apartment building and Ban goes after Akabane, who had retreated moments ago so as not to appear intrusive.

He finds his mate in their bedroom, sitting with head bowed in a silent sulk, obviously expecting a harsh rebuke for his earlier actions. Akabane looks up, expression devoid of all feeling, but he can't hide the emotions in his eyes. He's upset, and not just because he fears reprisal. Akabane doesn't like confessing to his own human nature either, least of all admitting to petty notions of jealousy. Having once had a taste of it, he isn't in any rush to dissect his heart with the cruel instruments of an emotion he cannot bear to withstand alone.

Ban stands where he is, letting him stew for a few seconds, then crosses the gap between them and takes Akabane into his arms. He gently kisses the other man's mouth.

"Don't do that again."

"I won't," Akabane whispers. And Ban knows that he speaks the truth, because his jackal is if nothing else a true professional, a man of his word, and Ban has learned how to extend that precious commodity called trust.

He gazes solemnly into purple eyes shining with anxious warmth. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, words so long guarded come easily then as Ban strokes the long black hair and speaks quietly. Tears well in Akabane's eyes but he quickly blinks them back, and murmurs his reply.

They cling to each other, first in tender embrace and then in increasingly passionate kisses. For this is their world, a perilous and exciting journey into an unknown but universal fascination.

--

Notes:

- The title for this fic is a play on one of Akabane's most (in)famous attacks, the Bloody Rain. An actual rain dance is a ceremony performed in order to invoke the coming of rain and ensure protection of a harvest. Various interpretations of such rain dances can be noted in many cultures, including those of ancient Egypt and certain Native American tribes, and might still be witnessed in some parts of the 20th century Balkans.

Interestingly, a Wikipedia entry notes that rain-dancing is not a term limited to ceremonial dance; any sequence of seemingly arcane actions performed using computers/software to achieve a goal is called a 'rain-dance,' presumably because the user's skill is so great it appears bafflingly mystical to the casual observer, as anyone who's ever known a 'computer genius' might attest to! (Makubex, anyone?)

- Dancing as a form of courtship is not uncommon; there have been and are cultures which continue to use dance as an expression of sacred and marital ritual, in addition to storytelling and celebration. The dances Akabane uses are a blend of Middle Eastern and Asian styles, which rely more on upper body movement and placement of feet rather than the hip-based Western styles which are usually seen as vulgar and gaudy in those cultures. The _banda_ in particular is associated with the Vodun (Voodoo) practices; it is intended to be purposely vulgar and lewd because its theme is sexuality and the celebration thereof – indeed, the entire dance consists of motions deliberately mimicking those of sexual intercourse.

The _sema/bandari_ dances, which hail from ancient Middle Eastern cultures (such as Persia, which is now modern-day Iran) and made most famous by the Mevlevi (aka the Whirling Dervishes), are markedly more restrained. Emphasis is placed on peaceful music and the motions of the arms and hands, to symbolize transcendence of the material world into a higher realm of consciousness. The dancer's graceful movements are intended to communicate harmony with God and to narrate the story of this spiritual journey. For the Mevlevi, their typical costumes consist of a high brown cap (symbolizing a tombstone), white gowns (symbolizing death), and wide black cloaks (symbolizing the grave). Belly-dancing costumes in general are actually intended to be quite modest; the stereotype of the lascivious near-naked female dancer likely got its origins from Western ideas, as many visitors made an unfortunate reputation for themselves by seeking out prostitutes (which is extremely frowned upon, to say the least) who dressed in gaudy outfits to denote their status.

Weapon-dancing is also quite common in many areas; popularly-used weapons include lances, sticks, knives and swords. The types of dances incorporating these instruments typically tend towards stories of aggression and battle; however, not all weapon-dances are meant to convey meanings of war. Some are merely tales of ancient folklore, passed on through the generations, or are rituals intended to bestow the passing of childhood into adulthood for local males. The six-pointed 'star' sword-lock that Akabane uses is a ritualistic depiction of beheading; in this instance, Akabane intends it as a symbolism of his mutual submission to Ban, to prove his worthiness as a consort.

Henna (red dye) is often used to signify religious or cultural applications, and is used on hands (nails especially), feet, face and often decorated in tattoos whose symbols represent certain concepts.

- Body calligraphy is a form of erotic foreplay; the lovers may use anything from various foods to special skin paints to yes, even blood (as freaky as that is), to write out whatever they wish on their partner's skin. The casting of spells, particularly in Vodun, requires certain patterns (known as veves) written in particular substances upon a surface. These veves are most often used as a door to open the spirit world to the living one and summon a particular spirit. However, there are other instances in other unrelated spell-practices where the magic is written out in stylized forms, according to the tenets of its origins.

Blood-oaths have been made throughout history in various cultures. Ancient native North Americans were known to do this, as are some extremist and hostile modern-day religious cults. The purpose of a blood-oath (basically, a vow made with the addition of drawn blood, usually that of the person making the oath) is to solidify a bond between close friends/family/mates, or to offer public commitment to a particular cause.

- Ancient Egyptians believed that names themselves were a form of magic and thus took great care to preserve them in their writings and religious worship; to deliberately obliterate or desecrate a name (such as chiseling it out of a monument, a surprisingly common practice in that age) in some manner was by standard Egyptian belief to literally erase a person from all existence, up to and especially the afterlife – which was considered a fate worse than death itself. (This practice was made most famous by the attempts of Pharaoh Thutmose III to rid Egypt of all mentions of Pharaoh Hatshepsut, his stepmother who ruled the country before he came to power. Legend has it that bitter enmity existed between the two, mostly on Thutmose's part, but this has never been proven conclusively.) To claim a name meant that one had great power over the named thing/person; there is a legend concerning the goddess Ast (Greek: Isis) and her ability to wield the name of Ra by tricking him into revealing it to her.

In fantasy fiction, necromancy is the sorcery of bringing the dead back to life; however, many necromancers possess additional powers that may or may not be related to this specific field. One such is the ability to draw strength from an enemy; this could easily be mistaken for a form of vampirism since the victim's energy is transferred to the necromancer just as blood revives a vampire – but for the real power being drawn from the sacrifice and subsequent death rather than any material means, and the fact that vampires (depending on the individual, of course) don't usually kill their victims right off but feed from them much like parasites do a host, and either allow them to remain alive and human or transform them into fellow undead vampires.

The 'spells' that Akabane uses to swear his blood-oath to Ban are actual words taken from various ancient Egyptian religious texts, and translated VERY loosely with a heaping dose of creative interpretation to give the form that I desired for this story. The words used, and their meanings, are listed below:

pure - ab

adoration - senenti

devote - qentet

love - mert

spirit - khu

evil/wickedness - tu

magic power - peh

powers - useru

"the creeping things" (a possible reference to snakes) - tchet fet

evil - tut

prince - seru

desert - set

darkness - kek

mighty - nekhtu

wrath - gen

evil (a possible reference to one's self) - aui

evil (death) - bethet

raged - kharu

talented - tebi

reptiles (again, a snake reference) - hefi

vigorous power - ten-ten

wicked - pui tu

skilled - saa

sacred - shepsi

strength - utcha

deadly - meru

wept - akeb/rem

misery - men

shadow - khaibit

protect - meket

"for ever and for ever" - tchetta er neheh

eternity - heh

guard - sau

observe - ennu

beautiful - nefer (This is, incidentally, where the famous queen Nefertiti got her name – her beauty was said to be legendary in all of Egypt)

beloved - merer

master - sahu

satisfaction - heteptu

adored - tuau

sorrow - hai

to drive away - seherit

weariness - bekek

joy - khent

hearts (plural) - abu

glad - netchem

hearts (spirits) - hatu

happy - thehu

soul - ba

one's double (part of the ancient Egyptian concept of souls and the afterlife) - ka

heaven - pet

"the one still of heart" (as in, dead) - urt-ab

lamentation - amem

sad - ant

to be without fault - shu em bet

"hidden places" - amenu

"he who is" - enti

knife - metis

"divine one" - netri/netjer

sacred - shepsi

desire - aba

poison - metu

"takes possession" (of) - thetet

body - aufi

enchant - hekau

enchantments - hekai

incantations - thes

"makes live" (a possible reference to reviving one who has died) - sankh

real (as in, a concept of truth) - maat

"rational beings" (a possible reference to gods) - rekhit

afraid - sentu

slew - smam

destruction - ant

blood - senf

nesert - the flame

The following are a collection of various phrases taken from parts of ancient spell-texts. When put together in their entire form, they constitute spells for protection, strength and courage, and banishment of harmful threats to one's person:

As bak seb ankh - Thy soul is a living star

Ab en set-heh - heart of radiant everlasting fire

Teben-na s-aakhu Akhakh - About me, the shining stars of flame

Ha khenu-na her-ab ankh-t - And within me is the divine heart of living fire

Ta sutenit - the kingdom

Ha-ta s-khemu - and the power

Ha-ta aaui - and the glory

Er-neheh - everlasting/forever

Amen - amen (Some speculate that this is where the Christian proclamation originated from, as the ancient Egyptians had a solar god, Amon/Amon-Re/Ra, to whom they paid tribute)

--


	32. Meet The Parents part 1

Title: Meet The Parents  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #23 – "candy"

Rating: R (m/m, language)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor spoilers for the history between Ban and Maria Noches; also spoilers for the manga ending.

Notes: This veers into AU territory as it references events from the manga ending, but I alter things for my own purposes.  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Akabane's mom, however, is totally mine. And she won't hesitate to let you know it. XD  
Summary: Surprises of the relative kind are in store for both Ban and Akabane, and everybody gets a little eye candy – even dirty old women!

--

I: All In The Family

There was no wake-up call quite as effective as a cat walking over one's head to haughtily declare at the top of her lungs that breakfast shall be served, or a sharp reminder of whose rules governed this household would be shortly forthcoming.

Nevertheless, the subject of my sister's summons refused to acknowledge our sovereignty. Ban-kun rolled over and buried his head in the pillow next to Kuroudo-kun. "Dammit. Go 'way," he muttered.

Medusa-chan wasn't about to budge. She trampled his head again and yowled irritably.

"Urgh. It's – " Ban-kun briefly poked his head out to look at the clock on the nightstand – "friggin' six-thirty. You ain't starving and you know it. Piss off," he growled at the black mound of fur intent on rousing him from slumber.

As amusing as watching their exchange of wills was – I knew from previous experience that both individuals were stubborn to a fault – I knew that Kuroudo-kun would have preferred to share in the same peaceful solitude as his lover desired, and true to form he nudged Ban-kun's shoulder after the next issued demand. "She just wants you to top off her kibble dish. It doesn't take but a moment," Kuroudo-kun reminded him gently after he'd excised a yawn.

He wasn't pleased by that. "Shut up, Jackal."

Medusa-chan meowed again.

"You too," was the reply she received.

"She's your cat," Kuroudo-kun said.

"You brought her home."

"Yes, but she looks to you for the majority of companionship; therefore, she is your cat. I belong to Miss Bastet." The feline in question chose that moment to hop onto Kuroudo-kun's pillow and play tug-of-war with a strand of his hair. Medusa-chan was a persuasive influence when it came to keeping schedules.

Ban-kun rolled over and glared at him with one open eye. This close, I could see how sleep had softened the lovely blue pupil to a rich hue – although, considering his annoyance, that fog was fast evaporating into a hard sapphire. "It's your turn to feed the furball brigade. I did it yesterday," he pointed out. As if to agree with him, Medusa-chan tacked on a throaty yowl.

_This is how you get them up out of bed when they think they can ignore you forever, _Medusa-chan told me with a smirk.

_Yes, but my way produces faster results, _I said, and took hold of another lock of Kuroudo-kun's hair. When I had a firm grasp on it, I gave it a quick jerk backwards.

"Ahh! Lady Bastet!" I let go of Kuroudo-kun's hair and waited to see if he would prove as indifferent to our plight, or if another gentle reminder was in order. Wisely, a pale hand, and then an arm, emerged from beneath the covers to reassure me that our humans would not abandon us to certain starvation.

"Silly kitten. I know, you two are hungry." I gave Kuroudo-kun's fingertips a polite sniff, then sat back and looked at him expectantly. Fortunately he was more gracious than his lover Ban-kun when it came to dispensing our requirements.

_Well, I'm not giving up on Ban-kun, _Medusa-chan said. She trod slowly, deliberately, over Ban-kun's flattened and mussed spikes of hair, all the while singing the intro to her morning song. _He needs to learn who the bosses are around here!_

I would have argued that all she was teaching him was how to exercise his fluent German vocabulary – he swore in guttural tones as he continued to shove her paws away – but to each their own, I suppose.

Kuroudo-kun looked amused. "My, my, Midou-kun seems to be neglecting you, doesn't he?" Ignoring the snarl that comment earned him, he turned over in bed and offered me some chin-scratches, which I happily took him up on. "That isn't very nice of him, now, is it, Miss Bastet?"

I was too busy leaning into his fingernails and serenading him with a heavy purr to answer that.

Kuroudo-kun chuckled. "Such a hedonist." He glanced over to where Medusa-chan was now examining Ban-kun's shrouded legs. "Midou-kun, you'd best get up. You know what she'll do once she gets tired of meowing."

_Too late!_ my sister feline crowed, as she hoisted a paw high and brought it – along with the five curved blades protruding from it – swiping down along the side of Ban-kun's leg. _Taste my vengeance!_

The blankets offered some protection against the worst of the slashes, but the scratching post that our next door neighbor Ginji-kun had so kindly obtained for us got much use, and our claws were made quite the lethal weapons. Ban-kun practically leapt from the bed shouting and grabbing his injured leg, while Medusa-chan darted to Kuroudo-kun's side of the bed and engaged him in a staring match.

"Goddammit, Medusa! I told you to knock that shit off!"

"Oh, hush, now, Midou-kun. It's not even bleeding. It's your own fault for ignoring her."

"One of these days, I swear I'm gonna Snakebite that damn cat – "

"No, you won't. You're too fond of her."

"Shut up." Ban-kun rubbed his leg, grumpy because Kuroudo-kun had spoken the truth. Medusa-chan's claws had left only a raised red line of irritation on the skin, and not pierced it. But then, we were experts at wielding such precision instruments to the intended effect.

Kuroudo-kun chuckled again. He knew my sister's antics well, having often imitated them himself when wishing to gain the attention of his mate. "Would you like me to kiss it and make it all better?" he murmured.

Ban-kun was not amused. "Why do they have to do this every morning? Why can't they just wait until we're at least awake to beg for food?"

_Because we're cats, you fool, _Medusa-chan answered him with a flick of her tail. _Your human schedules are inadequate for our needs._

_And we'd like to enjoy our meal before Ginji-kun arrives and gobbles up everything within sight, _I added. As fond as we both were of Ban-kun's retrieval partner, we remained in awe of his ability to devour anything within reach, and we always kept a respectful distance from any dinner table that he was seated at for safety's sake.

"Cats are cats," Kuroudo-kun summarized with a little shrug. "They want what they want when they want it. You can hardly fault them for obeying their natural instincts."

"In that case, I'm obeying mine the next time Little Miss Hairy Butt puts on a concert on top of my head at the asscrack of dawn," Ban-kun groused as he cracked the knuckles of his right hand. But he submitted to the inevitable and went to fill our food dishes anyway, as we knew he would.

As difficult a servant as he could be, we had managed to train him well enough to understand the significance of a properly-filled buffet dish. It was my dream to one day have him so well-instructed that he would tend our worship correctly as any true acolyte ought, but Medusa-chan had told me that it was a hopeless wish. She, at least, was happy with the necessities, but like me, believed those necessities were to be dispatched promptly upon request, and woe to the human who dismissed our commands as unimportant. We did happen to have a very powerful patron, whose namesake was the inspiration for my own title.

Kuroudo-kun rose from the bed and, after donning a silk robe, set about arranging the covers into a neat fashion as was his habit, for he was a tidy sort, tidier than most humans actually. The sweet sound of kibble tumbling over itself into a bowl summoned us from the room, and while Medusa-chan and I filled our cavernous bellies, Kuroudo-kun engaged Ban-kun in conversation – as well as one could when Ban-kun's mouth was full of toothpaste, anyway.

"Would you like to go down to Wan-san's cafe for some coffee before work? I have a mission that I'm expecting a status report on myself, but the call isn't due for several hours yet, so I'd have time to spend the morning with you."

"Gotta go there anyway. Hevn called yesterday, said she wants to meet with me on a job. Probably couldn't get that chickenshit monkey trainer to do it, so now she's coming crying to the Get Backers," Ban-kun answered, spraying a liberal amount of foam over the sink counter, which he dispatched with a careless swipe of his towel. He never had been a very good housekeeper.

Kuroudo-kun finished making the bed and went into the adjoining bathroom, coming up behind his companion and embracing him. "Now, Midou-kun. Be nice. Hevn-san means well."

"If she means well how come the jobs she always brings us are total clusterfucks?"

"I don't hear you complaining when you cash the cheques," Kuroudo-kun retorted smoothly, lightly tugging on a strand of Ban-kun's hair. "Just smile and think of Europe, dearest."

Evidently his sour mood was susceptible to his mate's gentle teasing, because Ban-kun didn't reply with his usual scathing diatribe. He merely smirked and planted a hand square on top of Kuroudo-kun's head, tousling his already hopelessly wild hair.

_Ban-kun is such a miser, _Medusa-chan sighed, not completely disapproving. More money meant more treats for us, after all. When one could convince him to loosen his death grip on the metaphorical purse strings, that was.

_Yes, but it's funny how his miserly ways don't seem to extend to his wallet, _I said. _That's the only reason he takes on Miss Hevn's jobs – they pay quite well, I'm told. Poor Ban-kun has the worst luck with money of any human I've ever seen! I wonder how he's going to afford this Europe thing he and Kuroudo-kun keep talking about._

_Well if he'd quit feeding his vacuum of a partner I daresay he'd see a fuller bank account. Good grief, I had no idea humans could pack it away like that! I thought they weren't supposed to eat THAT much in a single sitting...! _

On that, I had to agree. We took our meals in spaced increments, preferring to snack throughout the day rather than gorge ourselves like Ginji-kun. Surely the poor boy felt the need to regurgitate shortly after stuffing himself to the seams the way he did, but the only times I'd ever witnessed him doing so was when he was suffering illness, and I could count on one paw the number of such incidents.

We finished our dining and watched while Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun continued their playful sparring, warring with each other the way Medusa-chan and I sometimes did when we felt the need for exercise. When they were serious it was a breathtaking sight to behold, two alpha males matching each other strength for strength, skill for skill. But there was no ferocious intent here this morning, just two lovers trading their usual affectionate tussles.

Ban-kun 'won' and – after moving his brush out of the way - planted a still-toothpasty kiss on Kuroudo-kun's smiling lips. Kuroudo-kun laughed and pinned Ban-kun in turn, administering a light nip to Ban-kun's bare shoulder at the junction of his neck.

"Hey, now. Little ones are watching," Ban-kun said, gesturing towards us when his lover gave him a curious look.

Kuroudo-kun had few reservations. "Let them," he chuckled, and bit Ban-kun again, leaving a ring of paste on the skin from his lips where his lover had kissed him.

"Tch. Pervert." I noticed he wasn't complaining about the possessive way Kuroudo-kun was touching him, however.

"It takes one to know one, hmm?"

"Better a professional than an amateur, I always say..."

_You'd almost think that they were in a perpetual heat of their own, _Medusa-chan said to me as we left our humans to their romance. _Don't humans get fixed too?_

_Some do, _I answered, pausing at the foot of the bed to debate the wisdom of settling myself upon Kuroudo-kun's freshly-pressed shirt that was laid out on top of the spread. _But I don't think they go into estrus the way we do. Humans don't have litters as often as animals, you know._

_Thank goodness for that. Can you just imagine what they'd be like if they took over the whole world? _was my sister's remark. She bounced onto the bed and proceeded to knead her claws into Ban-kun's clean jeans, and I joined her shortly.

_Nonsense, _I said, stretching out on top of my human's shirt and extending a hind leg to begin my morning pre-nap bath. _They may not be the most intelligent of species, but they're smart enough to understand their own shortcomings. Poor things, they're so unenlightened when it comes to world domination._

_They're not unenlightened, they're just jealous 'cause we make the better gods. Speaking of which, we should follow ours to the Honky Tonk, _Medusa-chan suggested as she nibbled at a loose pant thread. _The Great Food Bringer might have fresh tributes for us!_

That was certainly a worthwhile trip. We had become somewhat known to several of the regular patrons of this temple of treats, and often received welcome tithings from these customers. Even the human Ban-kun called Monkey Bastard would offer us at least a few words of encouragement – prior to getting scratched by Medusa-chan, anyway. For some reason she simply disliked him and took a keen pleasure in terrorizing him with her baleful hiss every time he approached us.

_He's stinky, that's why, _my sister said, picking up on my thoughts as she caught my eye and sprawled unceremoniously upon the jeans she had managed to rip a small hole in. _He smells like bird poop and rat boogers!_

_What else do you expect? He's an acolyte of all animals, not just cats, _I reminded her. _Yes, it's an unpleasant aroma, but really, he's not such a bad fellow once you get to know him. At least he's more attuned to the animal world than most humans are. And his mate is that nice violin lady who always gives us our favorite plant-candy whenever she comes to visit._

_Maybe, but he's still stinky and I don't like him,_ Medusa-chan declared petulantly. _If Ban-kun ever lets me get close enough, I might bite his ankles for amusement. _

_Kuroudo-kun wouldn't like that, _I warned, curling up on the shirt and moving on to clean my front paws. _Neither __would Mozart-san._

_He would if it meant a fight, _she answered smugly_. Ban-kun would start one and then Kuroudo-kun would have to jump in and protect him. See? I can wrap Kuroudo-kun around my little toe and he knows it. As for the smelly ape-man's mutt, I'll have him squealing for his mommy with his tail between his legs in two seconds flat._

Medusa-chan's mention of mothers brought my attention back to a recent conversation we'd overheard our humans having one afternoon. Kuroudo-kun was dutifully answering some questions that Ban-kun was putting to him, and responded with several of his own. Much to my surprise, Ban-kun had clammed up like an oyster and refused to answer, a stubbornness that greatly disappointed Kuroudo-kun. Medusa-chan claimed it was because Ban-kun was a feral at heart. Like our fellow strays who wandered the back streets of this city, he was fiercely independent and preferred to rely on no one, though he certainly wasn't above pandering to his species if circumstances necessitated it.

Humans were such an odd breed. Only they would feud with their own pack mates, and over some of the strangest things. Evidently Ban-kun and his own mother had not parted on the best of terms, and discussing Kuroudo-kun's family had brought back some unpleasant memories.

I finished washing my face and curled into a half-moon for a brief nap, until such time as our humans returned from their mating session to discover our unauthorized seizure of their clothing. Before I drifted off, I posed a question of my own to my sister, who had decided there was no more fun to be found in destroying Ban-kun's pants and was also settling down to sleep.

_Ban-kun always sounds so bitter about his mother when he speaks of her. But in spite of all his animosity, I sense a deep sadness in him as well. Do you think that if he ever found her again, he might yet want to reconcile their differences?_

Medusa-chan cocked her head at me, flicking her ears back slightly. _I don't know. I doubt it, honestly. Whatever she did to him when he was a cub, it was bad enough to make him not want to talk about her to anyone. You've seen how mad he gets when Kuroudo-kun pushes him on it. I'd say that he hates her, except that I agree with you about his being sad. It's like he wants to hate her, but he feels guilty about doing it. Because she's, well, his mother?_

_Bloodlines alone aren't enough to inspire connection, _I said. _Instinct only goes so far. And humans aren't very good at utilizing theirs to the fullest. They've trained themselves to repress everything. It's hard to overcome that kind of teaching. _I paused, closing my eyes. _If Ban-kun and his mother ever crossed paths again in this life, it would probably take a miracle to get them back together again... _

--

The Great Food Bringer was conveniently located close to our home, not coincidentally because his little shop was where Ban-kun conducted a lot of his business. His partner Ginji-kun often met him there, and the two of them would proceed to plot their way through another job and eat through the many stocks of food grudgingly proffered. The Great Food Bringer – known to most of his acquaintances as Paul Wan – disliked services that turned no profit, and he usually delivered his goods with a stern warning for Ban-kun and Ginji-kun to apply their considerable talents as retrievers towards acquiring some compensation for his generosity.

On this day Ginji-kun was mercifully absent, ostensibly off on some business of his own, and Medusa-chan and I breathed a secret sigh of relief. We would not have to compete with him for nourishment. We trailed our humans inside the building and received some customary greeting pats from The Great Food Bringer himself, who said that he might have an extra can of the ocean's finest in the back room. Paul-kun liked having us around because unlike some of his customers, we earned our keep. Like any dining establishment, the Honky Tonk was not immune to rodent raider invasion.

I took up sentry by the counter, while Medusa-chan went to stalk around the rear pantry. Kuroudo-kun and Ban-kun chose one of the side booths and ordered a light breakfast, and I cocked an ear towards their conversation out of habit. They had the most interesting discussions.

Ban-kun was less than thrilled by Paul-kun's pointed comment about charging the most expensive item on the menu to what was evidently a bloated credit bill. He made sure to let everyone in the café know about his displeasure – though seeing as his only audience consisted of Kuroudo-kun and my sister and I, he accomplished nothing except the raising of Paul-kun's eyebrows.

"You aren't the only one who has to eat around here, you know," Paul-kun stated. "It's a miracle I'm still in business after letting you cheapskates crash here all the time. Coffee doesn't grow on trees."

"Shut up, Paul," Ban-kun said. "I think the Get Backers can manage something a little more higher up on the pecking order than a wage-slave job."

"At least with one of those you'd have a steady income, and I might actually stand a chance of getting paid," Paul-kun retorted.

_Burned,_ I thought, and Ban-kun knew it too. He grumbled something unintelligible beneath his breath and turned back to a smiling Kuroudo-kun. "I swear, one of these days I'm gonna score a big freakin' stash, come in here and bury the bastard up to his eyeballs in money. If that doesn't get him off my back, nothing will."

"A lovely fantasy, I'm sure," Kuroudo-kun soothed. "But, Midou-kun, Wan-san does have a point. This is the fifth time in two weeks that you've placed an order on your tab. It's not very polite to continue infringing upon someone's hospitality like this."

"Nor is it polite to let your most loyal clients starve to death after they've just successfully carried out a retrieval mission for one of your buddies," Ban-kun replied. "He owes us and he knows it, he just gripes 'cause he has nothing better to do." He reached across the table and ruffled a few locks of Kuroudo-kun's hair. "Besides, I've got you to pony up the cash when I'm short."

Fortunately Kuroudo-kun shared Ban-kun's sense of humor about these idiosyncrasies, and didn't take offense. He laughed softly. "Is that why you keep me around, then? Only my wallet is interesting?"

Ban-kun grinned. "That, and what else you keep in your pockets." From my vantage point, I couldn't quite see what he did under the countertop then, but judging from the slight widening of Kuroudo-kun's eyes and the soft startled gasp he made, it was likely something Paul-kun wouldn't have appreciated in a public establishment.

Kuroudo-kun recovered quickly and smiled at Ban-kun. "I think you both worry about money too much."

Ban-kun shrugged. "Money is what makes the world go 'round."

"Not always."

"Always," Ban-kun said flatly. "It's a fact of life and there ain't no getting around it."

Kuroudo-kun tilted his head curiously. "If that's the case, then I'm surprised you don't take advantage of your Jagan. I imagine that would save you quite a bit of expense."

"Depends on how often I'd have to use it," Ban-kun said grimly. "Meals alone would drain me dry. Then you have to factor in car repairs, towing expenses, tickets – "

"None of which would even be an issue if you'd simply listen to Ginji-kun and park only where you're supposed to," Kuroudo-kun gently reminded him.

Ban-kun waved him off. "Pfft. Anyway, I couldn't Jagan people just to get stuff even if I really wanted to. We'd have to spend the rest of our lives in hiding if I did." He smiled ruefully. "Yakuza-owned restaurants don't like it very much when a couple of bums off the street trick them into opening up four-hundred-thousand-yen bottles of wine."

Kuroudo-kun's lips parted. "Oh my."

"It was worth it though. You should have seen how pissed in his cups Ginji was." Ban-kun snickered. "That was a birthday to remember, let me tell you!"

"That reminds me, yours is coming up soon," Kuroudo-kun said. "What would you like me to get you?"

"Money's the gift that keeps on giving. Can't go wrong with that," Ban-kun grinned unrepentantly.

Kuroudo-kun chuckled. "I'll buy you some lottery tickets."

"Now who's the cheapskate?"

A thoughtful look came over Kuroudo-kun's face then. "You could always use a Jagan and fancy yourself a wealthy man."

"Nah. Wouldn't be the same," Ban-kun explained. "I'd still know the whole thing was a fake."

"Mm." Kuroudo-kun's smile took on a sly cast. "Do you happen to have any other fantasies that I ought to know about, besides financial independence?"

Smell was very important to mammals, not least of all we felines, and my whiskers twitched at the unmistakable scent of mutual desire between our pet humans. It amused Medusa-chan and me to watch Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun court each other in their unorthodox manner, though we were usually banished to the outer rooms of our home when their mating became more intense. I had always thought it amusing how humans made the whole process out to be far more complex than it needed to be.

Medusa-chan, of course, found it funny that Ban-kun was uncomfortable with having her stare incessantly at him while he was attempting to seduce Kuroudo-kun, and a typical scenario involved him heaving several curses – as well as a few pillows – at her, while Kuroudo-kun and I sat laughing quietly at Ban-kun's dismay until he set his sights on me and I was summarily exiled as well.

Ban-kun sat back in his seat, jaws working a rather large piece of food. He seemed to be considering Kuroudo-kun's question. "There is one thing I'd like…"

Kuroudo-kun perked up. "What?"

Ban-kun shook his head. "Never mind. Forget it."

"No, what is it?"

"I said forget it."

"Tell me," Kuroudo-kun said, rather eagerly. He leaned forward in his seat. "I really would like to hear it, Midou-kun."

"It's stupid," Ban-kun muttered, and I could see that there was a faint tinge of color to his face now.

Kuroudo-kun smiled. "I assure you, there isn't anything you could say to me that I would find stupid."

"Oh yes you would. Look, just forget I ever mentioned it."

Ban-kun looked like he was ready to get up and leave, but Kuroudo-kun laid a hand over his. "Please tell me? I'll share one of my fantasies if you do," he added encouragingly.

"You have about as much chance of getting a bloody battle with me and Raitei as Paul does of getting rid of the tab."

Kuroudo-kun laughed, a warm sound that caused my ears to flick more closely in his direction. "I didn't mean it like that," he purred. "There are many kinds of fantasies."

"Like the ones kept secret for all eternity," Ban-kun shot back. "Drop it, will you?" He scowled. "It's embarrassing. It's too clichéd."

"But it's still your fantasy," Kuroudo-kun pointed out. "Even if it happens to be a cliché, that doesn't make it wrong."

By now my curiosity had been piqued too, and I left my post at the counter to come and stare meaningfully at Ban-kun. If he wouldn't confess, a little encouragement was in order.

I leapt onto the back of the booth seat, behind Kuroudo-kun, and climbed down onto the seat itself. Ban-kun glanced at me, but other than acknowledging my presence with a few chin-scratches, he paid no attention to the look I was giving him.

Kuroudo-kun's patience was slipping away. "Midou-kun," he murmured. "If you won't tell me, I'll go ask Ginji-kun…"

"Ginji won't say a word."

"Oh yes, he will."

"No way. Not in a million years. Ginji and I are like this," Ban-kun said, holding up his fingers and crossing them together with a smirk. "Just because you and I are together doesn't mean you'll learn all my secrets, Jackal."

If he thought that Kuroudo-kun would concede defeat, Ban-kun had another thought coming. Kuroudo-kun wasn't that easily dissuaded from achieving his goals, and he knew Ban-kun only too well when it came to intimacies like these. His smile deepened to Cheshire amusement and he said, "I find that with proper _motivation _– " he lifted a hand and curled it into a fist as his claws extended – "anyone can be persuaded to engage in civil discussion."

Ban-kun's smirk froze.

"I'm waiting," Kuroudo-kun said cheerfully. I made a noise of agreement.

Ban-kun's eyes narrowed, and I fancied I could spot a bit of sweat beginning to bead by his upper temples. "I'll call that bluff," he growled.

Bad idea. Kuroudo-kun never backed down once his interest was engaged. With only a slight twitch of his eyebrow, he reached into the pocket of his coat with his free hand and withdrew his cellular phone. He flicked it open and pressed a series of buttons, and held the device to his ear. "Hello, Ginji-kun!" he said after a moment. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I have a tiny favor to ask of you – "

Ban-kun's swift reaction would have done cats everywhere proud. He snatched the phone away from Kuroudo-kun and barked into it. "False alarm, Ginji, it's nothing!" He slapped the phone shut and held it out of Kuroudo-kun's reach, glaring daggers.

Kuroudo-kun shrugged and made to rise from his seat. "From the sound of things, I'm guessing that Ginji-kun is visiting Shido-san over at Madoka-san's house."

"Sit down!" Ban-kun dropped the phone, grabbed for him and pushed him back into the seat. "Sit! Sit!" His face had changed into a rather stunning shade of reddish-pink; whether this was from his volatile temper or purely the humiliation of defeat I wasn't sure. "Fine! You _swear_ you won't tell anybody? Or laugh?" he hissed.

"Of course not."

"You swear, Jackal. On your blood. You won't laugh or breathe a word to a single soul."

Satisfied now that he'd gotten his way Kuroudo-kun smiled gently at him. "I promise," he soothed, patting Ban-kun's hands.

Ban-kun eyed him suspiciously, then looked around the shop carefully to make sure no one else was around. Paul-kun had gone into the back room to investigate a fuss Medusa-chan had kicked up.

Ban-kun turned back to Kuroudo-kun and leaned in very close to him. He started to say something, closed his mouth, then bit his lip and exhaled the words in a rush.

"I've always wanted to see you in one of those sexy nurse's outfits. With the black lacy stockings and the skimpy underwear and the cap and all." His skin burned brightly. "There. I said it. Happy now?"

Kuroudo-kun tilted his head. His smile hadn't changed. _"Interesting,"_ he murmured.

"Told you it was dumb," Ban-kun muttered, ducking his head.

"It's not dumb," Kuroudo-kun said. "Besides, you never know what fate might have in store down the road…" He winked at Ban-kun when that comment brought him a raised pair of eyebrows.

Ban-kun snorted and coughed out a somewhat gruff laugh. "It's just a thing I have, Jackal. My own personal conjure. I don't expect you to take it seriously." He raked a hand through his hair and cleared his throat, eager to resume his equilibrium. "So. What's your dream?"

Unlike Ban-kun Kuroudo-kun showed no hesitation in sharing his thoughts. Beaming, he leaned closer and cupped a white-gloved palm around Ban-kun's ear as he put his lips near it.

Ban-kun sat back and stared at him in disbelief. "_That's_ your fantasy?"

Kuroudo-kun smiled and nodded.

"Are you shitting me?"

Still smiling, Kuroudo-kun shook his head.

"I don't believe this," Ban-kun groaned. He laughed then, a shaky sound that escalated into a heartier rumble. Considering that he'd just asked Kuroudo-kun not to do the same thing in response to his confession, I thought that was rather rude of him. But it didn't seem to bother Kuroudo-kun any.

"Only you, Jackal. Only you can say something that off the wall that leaves me speechless."

Kuroudo-kun laughed with him. "Thank you, Midou-kun. I do try."

Ban-kun's reply was abruptly cut off by the tinkle of a doorbell and the unmistakable crisp clicks of a pair of high heels across linoleum. Immediately the atmosphere went from casual to somewhat tense, and I flattened myself against Kuroudo-kun's side reflexively.

Miss Hevn had come to town.

--

TBC


	33. Meet The Parents part 2

Title: Meet The Parents (part 2)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #23 – "candy"

Rating: R (m/m, language)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor spoilers for the history between Ban and Maria Noches; also spoilers for the manga ending.

Notes: This veers into AU territory as it references events from the manga ending, but I alter things for my own purposes.  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Akabane's mom, however, is totally mine. And she won't hesitate to let you know it. XD  
Summary: Surprises of the relative kind are in store for both Ban and Akabane, and everybody gets a little eye candy – even dirty old women!

--

"Well look what the cat dragged in," Ban-kun muttered, casting a sideways glance at me. "No offense, Bastet," he added.

_None taken, Ban-kun. _I could see immediately that he was on edge – the negotiator's infrequent visits always had that effect on him. I had yet to ever witness any of the spectacles that Miss Hevn presented the Get Backers with, but Medusa-chan assured me that they were often very dangerous, hence Ban-kun's anxiety. I supposed I couldn't blame him. Matching wits with an equal aside, stalking prey wasn't nearly as much fun if the prey was stalking _you_ at the same time.

"Ban-kun! Doctor Jackal! This is perfect," the woman declared with ripe satisfaction, approaching the booth. "Now I don't have to track either of you down."

"Lucky you," Ban-kun said drolly. "Or should I say, lucky us?"

Miss Hevn was unimpressed by the reception, or lack thereof, that her arrival garnered. Sweeping her long golden hair back, she smiled tolerantly and tapped a toe on the floor. "That depends on how much you're looking to make today, Ban-kun. I have a big one for you," she singsonged.

"More like two big ones. I've seen bandages bigger than that dress," he remarked with a cackle, and though his comment was rude to say the least I had to agree. Miss Hevn was always dressed in the most stylish of outfits and never looked unkempt, but she possessed a penchant for making some rather revealing choices.

"Midou-kun," Kuroudo-kun interjected with a quiet growl as he rose from the booth. "Be nice. Hevn-san has come a long way to bring us some entertainment." Just like a light bulb, he turned a pleasantly glowing smile upon the negotiator. "Would you care to sit down for some coffee while we discuss business, Hevn-san?"

"Thank you, Akabane-san."

I was forced to surrender my spot at the booth so that Miss Hevn had somewhere to sit. I planted myself in front by Kuroudo-kun's feet when he took his place again, so that I could see Ban-kun's face. "Aww, how adorable," Miss Hevn cooed. "Hello there, kitty." She looked at Ban-kun. "I know that Paul always complains about tight budgets, but isn't this pushing things a little? Mouse traps aren't that expensive."

"No, she's ours," he explained. "We've got two of 'em, actually. The other's scuttling around here somewhere."

Kuroudo-kun smiled. "I convinced Ban-kun that owning pets was conducive to good health."

Miss Hevn laughed at that. "I'll just bet you did!"

"I wasn't convinced for squat," Ban-kun snapped. "I told Akabane he could have _a_ cat. _A _cat. And what does he do? He brings home half the monkey-trainer's menagerie!"

"Oh, Midou-kun. Two cats hardly constitutes an entire animal kingdom. Besides, you adore them just as much as I do." Kuroudo-kun sent Miss Hevn a smirk. "He lets Medusa-chan sleep on his favorite chair all the time. As for Lady Bastet here, Ginji-kun is under standing orders to let her have the first plate whenever we all share a dining area."

I chirped in support of his statement. Ban-kun gave me a grumpy look before turning his attention back to the amused negotiator, while Paul-kun appeared with an offering of fresh coffee.

"Ah, yes, where is Gin-chan, anyway?" Miss Hevn's tone had turned towards brisk. Whatever sort of proposal she had, she was clearly eager to deliver it.

"Off playing Ginji of the jungle with his old pals," Ban-kun said. "I'll fill him in on the details, so go ahead and shoot. What level of pain are we looking at?"

"None, if you're any good," Miss Hevn said with a knowing smile as she sipped her drink. "You _are_ good...aren't you, Ban-kun?" He glared at her, but she went on. "It's an easy job this time. Some locals have been hired to move a mystery package across town. All you guys have to do is intercept the delivery. Beyond that, I don't have any more information, save for the specifics of the trip and time of transport. Everything takes place downtown close to the Tanaka department store this coming Monday morning at nine, although the deal's closing depends on when you locate the drivers. I was told that the retrieval service would know what to do once they attained their objective." She paused. "The client specifically asked for the Get Backers."

Ban-kun scowled. He patted down his pockets and took out his cigarettes and lighter. "I don't do mysteries. What's in the package?" he asked as he lit up one of those revolting sticks.

"Does it matter? You'll be getting a considerable payment for your efforts."

"Considerable payments tack on considerable taxes, too. I don't like the kinds of revenue your jobs always bleed from us, Hevn. Who's the client?" Ban-kun's voice had taken on a harder edge.

Miss Hevn looked somewhat discomfited. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say," she answered with what sounded like regret in her tone. "It's all very hushed, Ban. You know as well as I do that there are some clients who prefer shadows and secrecy. I can only push them for itineraries just so far."

He blew a stream of smoke at her. "A good negotiator wouldn't contract her servicepeople's asses into a sling without collecting all the necessary details first. You _are_ good...aren't you, Hevn?" he asked pointedly.

She bristled like the fur on my back. "I do what I can. I'm telling you. This is all the information that I have available at this time. For what it's worth, it doesn't sound like a very dangerous job - "

"They never do, coming from you. 'Oh, it's just a teensy-weensy retrieval, Ban. No problems at all, Ban. Big money for you guys, Ban.' Then bam – Ginji and I come face to face with an undead wrestling freak or those damn psychotic Mirokus." He shook his head. "Not this time, thanks. My head and my balls are all where they're supposed to be and I like 'em that way." He flicked a smirk at Kuroudo-kun. "So does Jackal."

His mate laughed softly. "The human body is truly a stunning work of art," Kuroudo-kun agreed slyly.

"Not when it's in a bunch of little pieces," Ban-kun grumbled. "I've had more close brushes with Hevn's jobs than I care to think about. She saves the worst for us because she knows we're the only suckers who'll do 'em."

Kuroudo-kun and I could have told Ban-kun that antagonizing Miss Hevn this way was fruitless, but he'd heard his mate's spiel before and the only way he would learn was through oft-repeated experience. Miss Hevn was displeased, but she knew how to handle such thorny situations. She waved and caught the eye of Paul-kun.

"Wonderful brew as always, Paul."

"Thanks."

"I suppose good coffee isn't easy to come by these days. Why, with as much as Ban-kun drinks, it's a wonder he can afford it."

"Forget it, Hevn! That's not gonna work on me."

"He's due for this month's tab," Paul-kun agreed with Miss Hevn.

Ban-kun blistered them both with stony glares. "Stay out of this, Paul, I'm warning you..."

"In fact, I'm thinking about cutting him off again if I don't see some money by next week." Paul-kun was never without his glasses, but somehow he could look at a person through them and make that victim feel about two inches tall when he was making a point. He was not one easily intimidated by bluster.

"Such a pity," Miss Hevn sighed remorselessly. "We all know how much Ban-kun loves coming here for his daily refreshments." She cast a curious glance at Kuroudo-kun. "But I suppose he could get a loan from you, hmm, Akabane-san?"

Kuroudo-kun smiled and shook his head. He understood the game here. "Goodness, no. Midou-kun needs to learn the finer aspects of financial management. He promised to take me on a special vacation next spring." Something scraped together, and I knew that he was kneading his claws in preparation. "And he knows that I don't like it when promises made to me aren't kept..."

"Thank you, Benedict Akabane," Ban-kun growled, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Fine! All right, already. I give." He scowled at Miss Hevn. "We'll take the job. But I'm warning you, Hevn," he snapped, jabbing a finger at her, "this better not be another one of your disasters in the making."

"The only disaster comes when you and Gin-chan somehow manage to lose your entire retainer fee," she retorted. "Honestly! You're the only two guys I know who wind up in the hospital because one of them chased a piece of dropped food down the side of a building while on mission stakeout."

"Hey, that was the eel's blunder, not mine," Ban-kun hissed. "And believe me, I gave him hell for it. That hospital bill was insane." He paused, glancing at Kuroudo-kun, whose lips were slanted in a smile that meant he was on the verge of loosing a tiny chuckle. Ban-kun jerked a thumb at his mate. "What's he got to do with this? You said you wanted to talk to both of us."

"Ah, yes." Miss Hevn sipped her coffee for a moment while presumably gathering her thoughts. "Yours is a different assignment, Akabane-san. This client requested a team of the top transporters, so naturally yours was one of the first names provided. I believe a 'Varlou' was another name mentioned - "

Kuroudo-kun's smile abruptly vanished. "I beg your pardon, Hevn-san," he murmured, polite as ever. "Did I understand that name correctly?"

My whiskers twitched in subtle amusement. Somehow I had the distinct impression that Miss Hevn's mention had displeased my human greatly. It made me curious, and I swiveled my ears towards them to better hear their conversation. I knew that Kuroudo-kun was picky about whom he worked with. He liked Lady Himiko and Gouzou-kun (as did Medusa-chan and I) best, and preferred their company as opposed to dealing with others, when not hired singly for a job. Perhaps this Varlou was a smoker, like Ban-kun. Kuroudo-kun was forever lecturing him on the benefits of quitting such a filthy habit, to no avail.

"Oh, not to worry, Akabane-san," Miss Hevn waved a careless hand, speckled with talon-red fingernails and several shining rings that, although simple in design, smelled expensive. "I made certain to mention to the client that you had very stringent requirements for accepting proposals. We agreed that it was best that you join Lady Poison and Mr. No-Brakes on this job. Assuming, that is, you're interested?"

My human was noticeably relaxed now, his smile resurfacing. "I take it, then, that this trip shall offer a suitable amount of entertainment? Some formidable opposition with which to pass the time, perhaps?"

"Very likely," Miss Hevn told him cheerfully. "The client tells me that the item is of great importance to its original owner, who will stop at nothing to get it back."

"Excellent," Kuroudo-kun declared quietly. "I would be delighted to accept this task, Hevn-san. Have you informed Himiko-san and Maguruma-san yet?"

The negotiator presented a dazzling smile to match the one my human was currently sporting. "I called them before I came here. You'll all meet downtown Monday morning by the Phoenix Red train station, nine o'clock sharp. So don't be late," she added a shade more tartly.

Ban-kun was frowning again. "Phoenix Red - " He mused. "Isn't that the one near - "

"Mugenjou? Yes, that's it," Miss Hevn replied.

The mood had sunken to a distinguishable gloom with the utterance of that name. Neither Medusa-chan nor I understood just why this place seemed to be so reviled by humans, but then we didn't need details to instinctively know that it must be a very frightening place. Its name was always spoken in hushed or cringing tones, if it was even mentioned by name at all, as if the speakers feared summoning an evil spirit from ether. Yet for all its apparent infamy, it must have held some peculiarly fond memories for a few Honky Tonk patrons, because we'd heard Ginji-kun and at least one of his friends, the kindly string-man Kazuki, talk of it whilst reminiscing about their youths. It was a most perplexing dichotomy, indeed.

"I am sure that all will proceed smoothly," Kuroudo-kun said now as he sought to restore a pleasant calm. "I must say that I'm quite looking forward to some excitement. It's been a while since I was able to find some employment that offered a modicum of interest."

"Just so long as you remember what the whole point of our doing jobs is," Ban-kun stated, an undercurrent of edge slipping into his voice. "We're halfway to our Europe goal. Yours'll probably pay pretty good, and if mine's anywhere near as big as Hevn claims - " he shot her a suspicious glare - "it'll put us that much closer towards the go mark."

Kuroudo-kun offered him a tender smile, reaching across the table to pat his hand. "Don't worry, Midou-kun. I haven't forgotten what we talked about."

"See that you don't."

"I still say that you worry needlessly about money. Surely you must admit, all work and no play isn't a very enjoyable existence, hmm?"

"That depends on your definition of 'play.'" This was said with the dour hint of a shared understanding that both of them had oft-quarreled over, with mixed results. Kuroudo-kun knew full well that his lover disliked particular aspects of his work as a transporter, and he did try to curtail some of his less savory exploits, but he was also adamant about pushing those limits to their straining point. If he were to test the boundaries of Ban-kun's patience on this one, it would not be the first time Medusa-chan and I had smelled blood on his person after he returned home from such an outing.

"Well, then," Miss Hevn sighed, now that her news had been summarily broken and accepted to her satisfaction. "I'll leave the schedules with you - " she reached into her handbag and pulled out separate sheets of paper, which she handed to each man - "and I'll notify the clients that everything's set for Monday."

Kuroudo-kun rose to allow her an exit, and she glided from the booth in a wealth of fragrance that made my nose twitch. I could never understand why some humans liked to marinate themselves in artificial scents when most of the time their natural ones were perfectly serviceable. Despite my attempts at maintaining a polite show, I couldn't help myself, and a loud wet sneeze, quickly followed by two more like it, preempted anything anyone had been about to say.

"Poor kitty," Miss Hevn said, and stooped to offer a consoling finger-scratch. I knew she hadn't meant to offend me, and I readily accepted her apologetic gesture. "She's not sick, I hope?"

"Nah. Bastet does that all the time," Ban-kun said. "Vet told us it was probably just allergies."

"It's because of those wretched cigarettes of yours," Kuroudo-kun gently chastised. "I've begged him to quit, Hevn-san, but he refuses to listen to reason. I _am_ a doctor, I of all people should know what smoking does."

Ban-kun flattened him with a look. "Don't start," he growled.

Miss Hevn raised a brow. "You said you have two cats, right?"

"Yeah."

"Ahh. I've only seen this one ever since I came in. The other one must be shy, I suppose."

Ban-kun let out a raucous laugh. "Medusa shy? When the snowball melting-pit freezes over, maybe!"

True to his word my sister was emerging triumphantly from the pantry stores, having concluded a successful patrol and now arriving to investigate the commotion up front. She blinked indignantly at me.

_Bastet! You should've told me that Miss Hevn was here! I wanted to hear what Ban-kun's job is about._

_I'll fill you in on all the juicy details, _I promised. _But watch out. Miss Hevn's got some powerful ammunition with her today. _Another sneeze escaped me as if to prove my point.

_Ugh. Maybe she and Shido the Stench should get together! _Medusa-chan complained, although we both knew it would never happen. Shido-san was much too devoted to his mate, and it was my limited understanding that Miss Hevn already possessed male companionship of her own.

My sister hopped up on the vacant seat left by Kuroudo-kun and the negotiator, commanding her share of the attention as was her right. Ban-kun was reading over the information he'd been given, so Medusa-chan directed her affections towards the closest available human. Kuroudo-kun smiled and picked her up, cradling her comfortably in his arms.

"There you are, Medusa-chan. I have good news, little one. I'm going to be going on a busy trip next week!" he told her to the tune of her congratulatory purrs. "I see you've had some fun as well. Such a good girl," he crooned as he looked up to Miss Hevn. "And look – she's even brought you a gift, Hevn-san." He nuzzled my sister's whiskers. "Wasn't that kind of her?"

Bewilderment creased Miss Hevn's porcelain features. "A gift?"

Everyone looked at Ban-kun. He was still sitting in his seat, snickering like a sputtering car engine. "A gift," he grinned, lowering his gaze meaningfully to the floor.

We all looked down. There, decoratively arranged on the top of Miss Hevn's pink high-heeled shoe, was Medusa-chan's fresh prize, minus its head. I hoped for the negotiator's sake that blood was easy to clean off of leather. Those shoes couldn't have been terribly affordable.

_I couldn't help it, _my sister shrugged. _The bugger was so torn up by the time I was done with him that I figured it was kind of pointless to ruin an otherwise decent display._

Miss Hevn didn't think it was so nice. The scream she unleashed made Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun clap their hands over their ears and sent my sister and I both bolting for the quieter haven of Paul-kun's back rooms. My still-ringing ears managed to pick up Ban-kun's resigned, "At least she didn't leave it on my pillow this time..." Meanwhile, Medusa-chan paused in her retreat to spit an offended hiss at the swiftly-departing woman who was charging out the front door of the cafe, still shrieking.

_Hmph! Some people have no appreciation for the finer things in life!_

--

The rest of the day came and passed without further grisly incident. Towards evening Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun settled in the living room on the couch, nestled in each other's embrace, Ban-kun reading a book and Kuroudo-kun dozing atop him. They had decided to take it easy in preparation for Monday's work, having held the necessary discussions with Ginji-kun, Lady Himiko and Gouzou-kun, over the phone or in person, to finalize planning arrangements for their meetings.

My whiskers twitched as I glanced at the title of the book Ban-kun was reading. He possessed a multitude of fascinating and bizarre texts, many of which dealt with a variety of sorceries. This one was no different. It stood to reason, after all – he came from a legendary line of warlocks. Despite his claim that he disliked mysteries, he certainly seemed to find their records interesting enough.

That reminded me of my own suspicions. Something about their respective assignments had piqued my curiosity, and I decided to share my thoughts with Medusa-chan.

I found my sister in the spare room next to our humans' inner lair, attempting to slip a determined paw into the little desk aquarium that Ban-kun had recently acquired courtesy of his partner. Ginji-kun had been at the market last week with Natsumi-chan, one of the waitresses who worked part-time at Paul-kun's shop, and the two of them wound up returning with a fish each, an extra one for Ban-kun as a present. He'd christened it Apep, although a better choice might have been 'snack' – because that was what our finned friend was about to become, if Medusa-chan had her way!

_Ban-kun isn't going to like it if you eat his fish, you know._

_So? He doesn't like half the things I do, but that doesn't stop him from fussing over me every time we have to go to the doom-doctor's torture dungeon for our shots. He'll get over it. _Medusa-chan stuck her paw back under the side of the lid that she'd managed to pry halfway off. Inside the tank, Apep bristled, snapping his little jaws as he unleashed a bubble of consternation at having his sanctuary disturbed.

_Maybe, but if Ban-kun isn't happy, then Kuroudo-kun won't be happy either, and if _he's _not happy... _I trailed off in warning to let my point sink in. Kuroudo-kun was very strict about proper manners, and devouring one's roommates was certainly a breach of etiquette by his standards.

Medusa-chan remained unmoved by the threat. _What Kuroudo-kun doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, it's Ban-kun's fault anyway, for bringing this temptation into our territory. He should know better than to tease us like that. _She stopped in her efforts and glared at the angered Apep, who was shimmying up and down the side of the glass snapping his jaws at her. _You too, you miniature fish stick._

_Be that as it may, _I argued, _it's still not very nice. What has poor Apep ever done to you?_

_For starters, the little bastard BIT me, _my sister hissed. _All I did was go for a quick drink of water once, and he swam up and chomped on my tongue. If Ban-kun hadn't walked in when he had, I swear - !_

_Interesting. I didn't know that bettas could bite, _I mused. Remembering my original objective, I changed the topic. _I'd still prefer it if you left off your quest for vengeance though. I wanted to talk to you about Ban-kun's and Kuroudo-kun's missions._

_Later, _Medusa-chan grumbled as the tank lid clattered alarmingly. _I've almost got this thing._

_Medusa-chan, _I growled softly. _This is important. I think something big is going to happen on Monday and somehow our humans are involved._

With a long-suffering sigh my sister drew away from the aquarium and turned to me. _Something big always happens on Miss Hevn's jobs. It's nothing to worry about, Bastet. Sure, Ban-kun might get roughed up a bit, and Kuroudo-kun might come home with a few dirty gloves, but that's hardly any different from any other time they go out._

_I'm not talking about that kind of incident, _I said. _This time somehow feels...different. Didn't you think it was rather odd that both of their jobs are scheduled for the same time?_

_Maybe it was convenient for Miss Hevn. She's a very busy woman, you know. Coordinating all those agents must take up a lot of time. And Kuroudo-kun does tend to live by his own schedule, after all._

I frowned. _It's also convenient that their jobs both take place downtown. Perhaps the locations are at separate points in the city, but the department store isn't that terribly far from the train station. It's almost as if they're being set up to meet in the near future..._

Medusa-chan's tail swished in thought, her attention now having been captured by that detail. _Do you think it's a trap, then? Someone wants to trick them into fighting each other?_

_I don't know. That's why I think we should follow them, _I explained. _You go with Ban-kun and Ginji-kun, and I'll watch Kuroudo-kun._

My sister gave me a perplexed ear-flick. _How are we supposed to do that? Without them knowing we're there?_

_Stow away in their vehicles, _I said. _You can sneak outside and spend the night in Ban-kun's car, until it's time for __him to leave._

_Sleep outside with no litterbox or food dish, in a cold car that always runs the risk of being towed? I think not, _Medusa-chan scowled, her tail an ebony whip of annoyance.

_Then how do you propose to make our break?_

_We wait till Monday morning and sneak out when Ginji-kun comes over to greet Ban-kun. Once he opens the door, we rush outside and hide somewhere nearby while we wait for our humans to part ways so that we can follow them._

_Not a bad plan, _I admitted. _We'll have to be careful, though. If either of them sees us waiting by the door they'll get suspicious, and you know how fast Kuroudo-kun can move when he wants to._

_Don't worry, _Medusa-chan said smugly. _A little spontaneous hairball expulsion should make for a nice distraction if we need it._

I mulled this over while my sister resumed her seafood-mining expedition, much to Apep's irritation. It was a decent plan, really. Assuming we could successfully avoid detection, it would be a simple matter to track our humans to their respective destinations. Any creature capable of discerning the unique sound of a can opener from two blocks away would have no problem keeping up with either Ban-kun or Kuroudo-kun.

_Very well. We'll meet by the front door as soon as we've finished our breakfast. You'd best help yourself to some of that potted plant in the living room if you expect to spit up a hairball on demand. _Scheduling arranged, I left Medusa-chan to her vendetta and returned to the living room, where I found Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun still on the couch.

Ban-kun had changed books. He turned a page, and Kuroudo-kun – who was napping with head pillowed on his mate's shoulder – stirred slightly, shifting his limbs to get more comfortable.

"Am I keeping you up?" The question was phrased quietly, and though Ban-kun's gaze never left the page he was reading, I could tell that he was paying close attention to Kuroudo-kun's response.

"Mmm. No."

"Let me know if the light's bothering you."

"It's fine." Kuroudo-kun yawned, and tilted his head back as his eyes slid partly open. "What are you reading?"

Ban-kun turned the book's cover so he could see the title. "Dwelling on the past again? That's not healthy, Midou-kun," Kuroudo-kun murmured affectionately.

"Neither is getting guillotined by an angry mob," Ban-kun answered calmly, taking no offense at the criticism. "How do you think I managed to stay around all these years? It helps to have a good esoteric archive," he said, tapping a finger against the side of his head.

"There's a lot to be said for preparation," Kuroudo-kun agreed, smiling. "I only worry that your heritage brings you more grief than is necessary."

"Eh, I'm used to it," Ban-kun shrugged. "Shit comes with the territory. At least my grandma didn't leave me high and dry like everybody else did. She warned me what to expect. Some of this stuff is actually interesting, once you get past all the mysticism and taboo."

Curious, I pounced onto the arm of the couch and draped myself partially over his shoulder, so that I could peer over his head at the book's contents. Amidst a greeting of idle chin-scratches, I studied the text:

_Summoning any of the Les Mysteres requires specific attention to detail and ceremony. A Loa may mount any cheval (horse) of his or her choosing; when deliberately invoked, care must be taken to address the spirit of one's request so as to both obtain the desired outcome from its arrival and to refrain from offending the summoned deity. An angered Loa is a deadly adversary to have, even for a master Bokor or Houngon (Mambo, for women). Therefore, when making your petition, be certain to have on hand the required offerings (depending upon the individual preferences of your Loa), and state your request in a clear, forthright manner, leaving no room for ambiguity or doubt, taking care to keep your words simple yet precise, lest the Loa take it upon him or herself to interpret your wishes in such a way as to produce completely unexpected or undesirable results._

My perusal was interrupted by a yowl of outrage. Seconds later Medusa-chan, her chin and nose sopping wet, came streaking into the room in a whirlwind of dark bristling fur. She was pressing a dampened paw to her mouth, alternating between snarls of fury and howls of pain. Apep must have expressed his displeasure with her in no uncertain terms.

"What the hell? Dammit, Medusa - " Ban-kun tossed his book onto the nearby coffee table and started to get up. "You better not be messing with that fish again!"

_I'LL KILL HIM! I'LL KILL HIM! _

_Bit you again, did he?_

_YES! And it HURTS! Scummy little bottom-feeder - !_

"Cats will be cats, I'm afraid," Kuroudo-kun pointed out as he rose from his mate and their couch. "I'll check the tank."

"What the hell was Ginji thinking anyway, getting me a fish when he knows we have these two ravenous beasts," Ban-kun grumbled, sinking back into the cushions. He glanced at me while I resettled myself into my original position. "Well, maybe just one beast. I have to give you credit, Bastet, you've been good about stuff like that. You're the most well-behaved cat I've ever met."

_Miss Goody-Two-Paws, _a sulking Medusa-chan accused me while she ignominiously groomed her wet fur.

I ignored the slight and gave him a slow blink of an eye-smile. _Thank you, Ban-kun._

He picked up his book again and thumbed through it until he found his place. I read with him:

_In most cases the petition between a Loa and the Vodun practitioner is relatively basic. The summoner opens Legba's gateway and asks a Loa to come forth, makes the offering and then states the nature of the request after ensuring that the spirit has been appropriately greeted. The summoner then withdraws so as to allow the Loa to complete the task within a suitable amount of time. Depending on the type of request made, results are usually not long in coming, although some may require longer or shorter periods and may also be subject to the Loa's whims – it is advisable not to place too many demands in too quickly a time, or ask the same thing of more than one Loa. This can upset the balance between the spirits and may risk turning them against the summoner out of spite. _

_Once a request has been fulfilled to satisfaction, it is recommended that the summoner conduct a second ceremony, consisting simply of offerings and prayers of gratitude to the Loa invoked. Such appreciation is pleasing and increases the chances that the same Loa will be inclined to offer his or her assistance again in the future._

That made sense, I decided. Whatever a loa was, it probably enjoyed being thanked properly for its help just like any other living creature.

Ban-kun turned another page.

_There are a few other, more complicated ceremonies of bondage, and these are strongly not recommended for anyone other than the experienced Houngon or Mambo. Indeed, even for an Adept, these rituals can be fraught with peril if performed incorrectly or without due respect. One such is the notorious Angajan, the sacred engagement between mortal and Loa. Once brokered, it is nearly impossible to dissolve, and any attempt at reneging upon such a contract would very likely result in fatal consequences. It is rare for this type of arrangement to become necessary for most requests; the majority of sealed Angajans are usually reserved for extreme or specific circumstances, and may be subject to individual terms as dictated by the parties of the covenant. _

As I watched, a subtle frown crossed Ban-kun's face. This was the kind of look he got when he was deeply in thought, his focus having been triggered by something he found of great importance, something that only he seemed able to interpret. He started to turn to the next page, hesitated in the act, and then abruptly flipped the still-open book over and plopped it face-down onto the table.

Next thing I knew, I was being elevated at a pace too quick for my liking. I managed to jump away from Ban-kun's shoulder and landed easily on the couch seat, pausing but a moment to gain my balance before leaping from it and scurrying after him.

Ban-kun went to the scene of the foiled crime, which Kuroudo-kun had just finished securing. Apep, none the worse for wear save for perhaps a ruffled fin or two, was bobbing vigorously in his tank, the lid of which was now secured with a generous strip of duct tape. Several more strips had been curled into ribbons and placed beneath the tank, affixing it firmly to the top of the desk should Medusa-chan attempt to displace the entire container by knocking it over.

"She must have gotten too close to the water for her liking," Kuroudo-kun was explaining to Ban-kun as he replaced the roll of tape in one of the top drawers. "A good thing that most cats don't like to go swimming, hmm, Midou-kun?" he chuckled.

"Next time we get any new pets I pick what kinds enter this domicile," he stated, going to his computer and dragging a chair in close. "We have enough riots on our hands with the ones we've already got!"

Kuroudo-kun smiled and went to stand behind him, rubbing his shoulders comfortingly while Ban-kun started exploring databases that appeared onscreen. "You cannot blame Medusa-chan for merely following her natural instincts. Cats are predators; fish are prey. This is how nature made them. You may as well argue over the sun rising in the east and setting in the west," he tried to reason.

"Then our solution is easy. We get a big damn fish that's also a predator," Ban-kun muttered as his eyes flicked over the information he was sifting through. I craned my neck to see, but all I could make out were a series of peculiar patterns, some in color and some in black-and-white, all of them elaborately drawn in simple lines to form a kaleidoscope of symbols. "How about a friggin' shark, that'll teach her to bite off what she's not supposed to chew..."

Kuroudo-kun laughed, a silky tickle that always warmed the ears of his favorite companions. He lightly squeezed Ban-kun's shoulders. "My, my. Such tension you've suddenly got over a silly skirmish of insignificant proportions." He stooped and kissed his mate's cheek. "Why store that energy restlessly in your body where it will do little good, when it could be put to much more delightful uses? Ones that we might both enjoy?"

Normally this type of interaction was a prelude to one of our humans' typical mating rituals. But this time Ban-kun remained unmoved by Kuroudo-kun's playful invitation. He was staring intently at a block of text on the screen, which was displayed next to a picture of another strange quilt-like drawing. It looked like a circle around an X with lances thrust through it. He directed this picture to resize itself, and in the blink of an eye it reappeared on the screen, twice as big without the description to accompany it.

"...interesting..." I heard him murmur under his breath.

His lack of excitement over the usual arrangements nipped at Kuroudo-kun's own curiosity, and he too gazed upon the screen with a curious frown. "What are you doing?"

"Explain to you later," Ban-kun said thoughtfully, combing a rough hand through the unruly spikes of his hair. "I need to meet with Maria first to get the bigger picture before I can figure out where I'm at."

"Mmm. It's been a while since last you saw her, hasn't it?"

Ban-kun didn't answer. He was instructing the printer to present him with a copy of the drawing displayed on his screen.

Kuroudo-kun nuzzled his ear. "May I come with you when you go to see her? I should like to enjoy her company once more. She was a most fascinating lady to speak with while we were engaged with the Queen's Cup challenge."

Ban-kun took the piece of paper from the printer's tray and examined it briefly before folding it and setting it aside. He turned and planted a kiss on Kuroudo-kun's lips. "Not this time. I plan on going there before Ginji and I get bogged down in taking care of whatever crisis Hevn's manufactured for us."

"But that will mean losing an entire weekend." Kuroudo-kun's smile wilted. "You're not taking me with?"

"Sorry. This is something I have to do alone," Ban-kun said as he stood up. He smiled to offset Kuroudo-kun's disappointment. "I'll be back before you know it. Promise."

Kuroudo-kun was not so easily put off. He raised mournful eyes to Ban-kun and said, "But I'll miss you."

"I know. I'll miss you too." Ban-kun lifted a brow. "Ginji'll be here to keep you company," he offered.

_Bet that'll come as a surprise to 'ol Shockwave, _a still-dampened Medusa-chan said to me as she entered the room. We hid our smirks behind our paws.

Surprisingly, this carrot failed to attract Kuroudo-kun's interest. He smiled somewhat pleadingly. "I want to be with _you,_" he murmured.

Even more surprising was Ban-kun's calm reply – patience wasn't something he was especially known for. He stroked Kuroudo-kun's hair. "I know. But I have to go, Akabane. Trust me, you won't want to be there. It'll be boring and drive you out of your skull. All we're going to talk about is witchy stuff. No battles."

Kuroudo-kun still looked sad. "I'll behave. I'll be quiet, and stay out of your way. And I promise not to get into any fights, unless you tell me to." A hopeful light shone in his gaze after he mentioned that last part, perhaps expecting it to sway Ban-kun's decision in his favor.

However, he should have known by now that once Ban-kun made up his mind, it was set in stone. We watched as he shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, Akabane. This is just how it is." He let go of Kuroudo-kun and left the office room, heading towards the kitchen.

_Poor Kuroudo-kun, _Medusa-chan said. _He doesn't look very happy. I wonder why Ban-kun won't take him to Maria's?_

_He must still be hung up on all that witch stuff of his. Especially with certain of his relatives as a reminder, _I answered. _I don't know why he's so upset. It's not like Kuroudo-kun wouldn't understand. _

_Of course he would. He and Ban-kun have so much in common. _

_And he and Maria already know each other well enough to be on good terms._

_Ban-kun's just being stubborn again, _Medusa-chan sighed. _He really needs to face facts. So he's a witch. So what? Who says good witches can't exist? _

_Depends on what part of the globe you travel to, _I replied with a tail-twitch.

_That's true, _Medusa-chan grumbled while we followed our humans into the kitchen.

Above us, Kuroudo-kun continued to argue his case, despite the fact that Ban-kun was paying more attention to finishing off the leftover container of takeout from the refrigerator than to him. "I think you should take me with you, Midou-kun."

"And I think it's not gonna happen," Ban-kun said around a mouthful of moo goo gai pan.

Kuroudo-kun had descended into a pout. "I really think you ought to reconsider," he warned in that silky-soft tone he got whenever he was irritated.

Ban-kun didn't take the hint. "This discussion's done, Jackal, so stick a fork in it." He dumped his snack remains in the sink and turned to walk away – a tactical error on his part.

Kuroudo-kun's eyes narrowed and he held up a shining column between his fingers. "How about a knife instead?"

Too late Ban-kun whirled, thinking to dodge a solitary scalpel. Much to his dismay, Kuroudo-kun had anticipated this, and a whole flock of blades scattered over Ban-kun's form like birds settling in to pick at a patch of seed.

_I wish we could throw our claws like that, _Medusa-chan said enviously. _Just think of how much more fun chasing prey would be!_

Ban-kun howled from his makeshift cage against the wall, spitting fury at Kuroudo-kun, who was smiling again because he knew he'd gotten the upper hand after all. He strolled over to Ban-kun with a fresh scalpel twirling in his fingertips. He tapped the flat end of it gently against Ban-kun's nose.

"I'm coming with you, and that's that," Kuroudo-kun said sweetly.

"Dammit! Let me go!"

_Poor Ban-kun. He just doesn't get it sometimes, _I giggled to Medusa-chan.

_And he never will, _she said. _Come on. If we lay it on thick enough, maybe we can talk Kuroudo-kun into bringing us with too._

This I readily agreed to, as we approached our caretakers with quivering tails. We liked Maria – she always had treats for us, and we would get to visit with our friend Luce who lived with her.

Kuroudo-kun nuzzled Ban-kun's face. "Just think of me as your guard Jackal keeping a protective watch over you. Lady Noches does live within the treacherous perimeters of Underground Shinjuku, after all."

"How can you be so charming and yet so completely psycho?" Ban-kun muttered, still annoyed but resigned to granting his mate's request.

Kuroudo-kun smiled. "It takes years of practice."

--

TBC


	34. Meet The Parents part 3

Title: Meet The Parents (part 3)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #23 – "candy"

Rating: R (m/m, language)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor spoilers for the history between Ban and Maria Noches; also spoilers for the manga ending.

Notes: This veers into AU territory as it references events from the manga ending, but I alter things for my own purposes.  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Akabane's mom, however, is totally mine. And she won't hesitate to let you know it. XD  
Summary: Surprises of the relative kind are in store for both Ban and Akabane, and everybody gets a little eye candy – even dirty old women!

--

II: Fairy Godmother Death

It took an extra bit of persuasion for Ban-kun to consent to bringing us along to Maria's, but Kuroudo-kun was nothing if not talented at giving his lover that necessary pointed nudge – in more ways than one. So it was that with much maligning of his mate's parentage (and our gods-given talent for irresistibly adorable feline appeal) that Ban-kun packed us – himself, Kuroudo-kun, Ginji-kun, Medusa-chan, and myself – into his car, and off we scooted to the downtown area.

We saw the forbidding towers long before we arrived at our destination; even when safely ensconced within the walls of Paul Wan's little cafe', the signature lance of Mugenjou's defining structure was still clearly visible from the front window. The closer we came to the base of those awesome pinnacles, the quieter everyone became and the grimmer the mood. Ban-kun was aware of this, of course, and tried his best to keep everyone from sinking into the pit, but even he was affected, as his humor tended towards dark obscenity.

Still, none of us could be completely dampened. Ginji-kun was pleased because he knew that Maria would feed him (and by extension, us) well. Kuroudo-kun was pleased because here would be an opportunity for him to collect information, such that could come in useful for future battle reference. Ban-kun was – not exactly pleased, as he seemed to harbor some sort of peculiarly semi-affectionate revulsion for Maria that we never quite understood. But there was an alert air about him, as if he were looking forward to hearing something she had to say.

Medusa-chan, half-perched in Ban-kun's lap while he drove, gave me a knowing look. We'd both seen the piece of paper with the unusual art design that Ban-kun had printed out earlier, and he'd brought it with him on this trip.

I lowered my head into Ginji-kun's enthusiastic scratching. Perhaps our friend Luce – a feline adept in his own right – would be able to clue us in to the nature of our humans' interests. Living with Maria, one had to be bound to pick up a few things here and there...

Ban-kun parked the car as close to the underground's outskirts as he dared, and locked it solid. "We walk from here on out, boys and girls," he announced sourly. "Watch your backs and keep cover. Nobody starts anything unless I say so." That last was a reminder to Kuroudo-kun, whose eagerness to defend his companions was, shall we say, rather a bit more boisterous than necessary.

Reluctantly, Medusa-chan and I allowed ourselves to be bundled into the carriers that were usually a precursor to our torture at the frightening place known as the veterinarian's. Luckily for us (and for Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun as well – Medusa-chan had made her displeasure with the former _very_ well-known during the last most recent trip there and the scab on Ban-kun's forearm was still evident), no pointed objects of misery or revolting medicines awaited us. The few denizens that inhabited this area shied away automatically upon sight. Even humans could, on occasion, sense when potential rivals weren't worth challenging upon pain of death. Ban-kun had once said that Kuroudo-kun was the best 'insect repellent' for miles around – whatever that meant.

We turned a corner into what looked to be a somewhat run-down stretch of alleyway, populated by several buildings and the erstwhile stray animal. The brightly colored sign hanging by the entryway of one shop stood out like a sore paw, but its declaration - "CARTAS" - was what Ban-kun was looking for. At his direction, we headed straight for this place and – much to Kuroudo-kun's horror – walked right inside without ever knocking and waiting for bidden entry.

"Honestly, Ban-kun. I know that we're expected, but it doesn't take more than a moment to stop and announce your presence properly first."

"Like the old bag doesn't know me well enough," was his curt reply.

"Akabane-san has a point, Ban-chan," Ginji-kun whispered, eyeing the surroundings as if he expected something to suddenly jump out from the shadows at him. "I like Maria-san and she's really nice and all, but..." his voice dropped further - "she's kinda spooky too!"

"Chicken," Ban-kun taunted. "That incident with the heart still freaking you out? Relax. I've seen her do a lot worse to people she _doesn't_ like. Worst you're liable to see from her is a granny-flash in the shower when you're not expecting it. Just keep your eyes away and think happy thoughts. Anyway, she won't mess with you as long as you're with me. She knows better than to try and screw with my head."

_Ban-kun's a little too confident for his own good sometimes, _Medusa-chan sighed.

In my own carrier, next to hers, I agreed. _And spouting off about Maria like that on her own territory isn't likely to earn him any points either. He's lucky she's such a forgiving lady!_

Indeed, anyone else who would dare cross the threshold of a witch's sanctuary uninvited would surely have been reduced to either a pile of burnt dust or a screaming wreck of a lunatic, whichever occurred first after the initial spellcasting. But Maria always knew who her visitors were even when she wasn't in the same room, and she prepared her welcomes accordingly. The instant Ginji-kun set our carriers down on the floor, something small and white bounced off of his head and landed in the middle of Ban-kun's hair, gleefully scrabbling at and nipping it.

"GAH! Get OFF! Damn cats! Quit it!"

_Luce!_ Medusa-chan and I cheered through mesh screening.

_Hey girls! Glad you could join the party! _Luce, whose full name was Lucifer Diablo Loki Muerte Noches, looked up from his chore of mussing Ban-kun's hair and grinned. With his dual-colored gaze – one eye was a startling green while the other was a placid sky-blue – he was quite the bold surprise for anyone not accustomed to his presence. Before Ban-kun could forcibly remove him from the now-rat's-nest of tangles that was his hair, Luce neatly sprang away and made a perfect pirouette upon the back of a chair nearby before landing in front of our carriers.

_How's that for a welcoming committee?_

_You can be young only once, but you can be immature forever,_ Medusa-chan snorted, sticking out a paw from the hole where she'd managed to work the zipper open.

_Did Maria tell you to do that, or did you just decide it out of the goodness of your own heart?_ I asked wryly. Luce had a penchant for living up to the reputation of one of his middle names – taught by, we were certain, his mistress herself. There was nothing that Maria loved more than a classic sense of humor.

_Ah, Bastet, you know I only do it because I love Ban-kun,_ Luce answered with a wink of green eye as he play-batted at my sister's paw. _Besides, isn't it funny to watch him flip out? Humans are the most amusing toys on earth, I swear._

_Yes, but the point is to enlighten them, not drive them insane,_ I said, watching Ban-kun loudly complain to anyone and everyone while he tried without much success to straighten his hair to its previous state. _They can't __learn anything if you send them into an incoherent raving fit._

_Tell that to Maria. Her methods work wonders, and they're a riot to watch!_

Ban-kun would have sorely disagreed with him on that. Indeed, even as he was winding up the last of his spiels on the evils of ancient witches and their familiars, the grandmistress of mischief herself was flouncing into the room with all the dramatic flair that one might expect of a sorceress of her standing. Maria took one look at Ban-kun and screamed practically loud enough to shatter the windows.

"Ban-kun! You naughty little boy you! Sneaking in here and upsetting my sweet Lucie, I should spank you!" She flew to him with outstretched arms and a smile twice as wide.

"Lay one hand on me and it'll take more than Max Factor's finest to spackle up your moldy old face!" he snapped, rearing away from her like a horse in flight. "What the hell gives, siccing your hairball on me like that?"

Maria wasn't the least bit phased by his rudeness. She continued to squeal over him like a starstruck teenager. "Oh, you should have _seen_ the look on your face! I haven't seen my bitty Ban-kun's eyes go so wide since you were a little sprout and I caught you peeping at me in the morning bath!"

"MARIA!"

Ginji-kun was agoggle at his partner. Kuroudo-kun looked taken aback, but held a polite silence. Medusa-chan was ducking her head, covering up a snicker of amusement at the witch's brazen disclosure. Ah, the joys of family, even adopted ones.

"Oh, you brought the babies!" The doors to our carriers suddenly opened in a rasp of zippering, and we were free to roam, not that we got very far before we were being swept up in a perfumed bosom. "Little Bastet, Medusa sweetie! Is Ban-kun being good to you, my little furries? He better, or he'll answer to me!" She giggled.

_Hello, Maria-san. Everything is fine, thank you._

_Hi Maria! Ban-kun's been good, but he needs to feed us on schedule more often and I'm low on catnip too. Won't you set him right?_

"You really spied on Maria-san?" Ginji-kun asked in awe.

"Not intentionally!" Ban-kun glared. "I was just walking by the bathroom on my way to get breakfast - "

"While the kitchen was in the opposite direction," Maria put in with a wink, nuzzling a purring Medusa-chan's whiskers.

" - and the door was standing wide open, how could anybody miss it, and I looked up and there she was - " Ban-kun suddenly shivered all over, shaking himself the way we did whenever we were accidentally caught in the rain. "Gah! You could at least warn a guy before pulling the shapeshifting act!"

"But you learned your lesson, didn't you?" She giggled again and waggled her finger. "He _never_ tried to watch me naked after that!"

Kuroudo-kun discreetly cleared his throat. He'd taken off his hat and was holding it to his chest. "Ban-kun, we are going to have to have a serious discussion about your distinct lack of manners."

"You're one to talk, Mr. Swiss-Army-Scalpel. How many times have I told you not to cut the bedsheets up because you want extra covering?"

"I only do it because you refuse to share."

"Because you hog all the blankets all the time!"

"I most certainly do not. That is your failing."

Ban-kun rolled his eyes and sighed. "See what I gotta put up with?"

Maria was dissolving into bubbly laughter. She let us down with a quickly whispered promise of forthcoming treats. "I had heard you two were quite a couple! Oh, Ban-kun, it's so adorable! However did you two meet?"

He shrugged. "We came, we saw, we fought, we fucked. Not much else to it than that."

_Boy, Ban-kun sure does know how to explain things, doesn't he,_ Luce remarked while the three of us investigated the flowing ribbons from the ends of Maria's elaborate dress. Medusa-chan had already pulled off one of them and was batting it about the floor, but Maria didn't seem to mind.

Kuroudo-kun frowned. "Midou-kun! That's no way to tell a proper story." He smiled at our hostess. "It was so very romantic, Lady Noches-san. It was love at first fight."

An awkward silence rose, not an uncommon reaction to Kuroudo-kun's way with words. "No, it really was," Ban-kun insisted at the witch's burgeoning grin.

"Yeah," Ginji-kun said. "Ban-chan and Akabane-san, they started out all fighting and mad at each other, but they have a special feeling between them that they just can't help. They worked hard and I'm really proud of them," he said, grinning as though he were personally responsible for our humans' success in relationships.

Kuroudo-kun seemed pleased by this affirmation. He set his hat on a nearby table and came to put a gentle hand on Ban-kun's shoulder. "Ban-kun and I have worked together before, as you may know, Lady Noches-san. Through our continued association we discovered that we had quite a bit else in common besides a deep and abiding passion for stimulating battle - "

He interrupted. "It took us a while, but we stuck it out - "

" - and now we have each other," Kuroudo-kun finished fondly, gazing at his mate with muted but intense fervor, knowing that despite Ban-kun's raucous denials he in turn was as cherished with the same regard that Kuroudo-kun kept for him.

Maria clapped her hands together and hopped up and down. The top of her dress threatened to spill out a waterfall of flesh, but amazingly, the strained fabric held fast. Medusa-chan and I had sometimes speculated that she and Miss Hevn shared the same wardrobe. "Too precious! You simply must tell me all about it. You _will_ stay for dinner," she ordered, tapping a finger at Ban-kun when he opened his mouth to protest. "No buts, Ban-kun! Now you take yours into the living room and all of you get comfy! I haven't had such exciting guests in a long time!"

"Maria, I didn't come to listen to your windbaggery and choke on your roadkill cooking. I've got something important I have to talk to you about," Ban-kun growled in that way that he got whenever he was bent on obtaining a desired result.

"Later, later, my dear pumpkin!" The witch sailed about the room, picking up and whisking Kuroudo-kun's hat about and plopping it on the top of the coat rack by the door, latching onto Ginji-kun's forearm and towing him forward with a kiss to his now-furiously reddened cheeks. "Nothing's more important than a friendly visit with family, hmm?"

--

Maria's idea of friendly bordered more on the limits of a banquet – which was to say, there were none. In her view all was fair game, and when she set out to put on a spread she did it with her usual grandeur. Her place was comfortably small, but we still couldn't help wonder how she managed to pack away in it all the food that she was currently shoving under everyone's nose and demanding that they fill themselves to the brink with it, if not beyond. Luce, Medusa-chan and I were treated to a heaping bowl of what smelled like a heavenly mix of freshly-baked meats; it could easily have fed a canine more than three times our combined sizes. One could certainly never say that Lady Maria Francesca Noches was stingy in her hospitality.

Except our human, of course. In spite of his earlier complaint about bad cooking, Ban-kun had devoured half of a pot of stew and was already tearing away at what had seconds ago been a full loaf of bread. Evidently Maria's culinary talents weren't so horrible as to persuade him to abstain from dining. He gobbled down the hunk of bread – ignoring Kuroudo-kun's disapproving look – and called on Maria to give him her full attention so that he could press his case.

"Hey, Maria! When are you gonna stop bouncing around like some kind of overstuffed pillow so I can pick your brain?"

_I can't believe Maria lets Ban-kun talk to her like that, _Medusa-chan said, licking away a generous dollop of gravy that had dribbled onto her chin.

_I can't believe it either,_ Luce said. _Last guy to disrespect her wound up having his lips sewn shut for a week. Maria doesn't always have to do the dirty work herself. She knows people, if you get my drift._

_Nostalgia, I suppose, _I commented after I finished chewing a tender morsel. _She treats Ban-kun almost as if he's her son, even though he didn't grow up very long in her household. A pity he doesn't seem to appreciate all that she does for him. I'm sure that Kuroudo-kun would have a few pointed things to say about that._

My assessment, of course, proved on target when Ban-kun's mate quietly cleared his throat and directed a frank gaze across the table where the humans were all seated. "Midou-kun, must you be so uncouth towards your former mentor? Lady Noches has worked so hard to bring us this pleasant meal. The least we can do is pay our proper respects, no?"

Ban-kun looked up from where he was burying his face in a pile of steamed vegetables. "I'm eating her slop, aren't I? There's my respect."

"Oh, it's all right!" Maria laughed upon seeing Kuroudo-kun's tiny frown. "My sweet little baby boy's all grown up now, doesn't need anybody to look after him. Why, even when he was living with me, he insisted on always being the one to finish any project he took on. Such a wild streak! It's that stubborn German in you. You get that from your father and your Nana!" She giggled and pinched Ban-kun's cheeks, much to his dismay.

Ginji-kun piped up from his place next to Ban-kun, where he had thoroughly decimated a casserole. "Tell us some stories about Ban-chan when he was a kid, Maria-san? Please?"

"No," Ban-kun said flatly.

"Oh, please do," Kuroudo-kun said, his smile restored by the prospect of hearing tales of his lover's youth. "I'd love to hear about Midou-kun's early struggles."

"Akabane, what did I just say?" Ban-kun groaned. "You get her on that subject, we'll be here all night!"

Kuroudo-kun wouldn't budge. "I have no plans for this evening." He looked at Ginji-kun. "Do you have any employment scheduled, Ginji-kun?"

"Nope, we're free as birds, Akabane-san," Ginji-kun said through a mouthful of crumbled stuffing. His answer earned him a swift pound to the head from Ban-kun.

"Advertise the fact that we're down on our luck again, why don't you," he grumbled. "Somebody's gotta teach you the finer points of running a business one of these days."

Clearly delighted to have a captive audience for her tales, Maria fluttered into a chair like some kind of buxom butterfly. "Well. In order to understand Ban-kun, you have to hear a little bit about his Nana. She was my teacher, you see. Never a finer lady or a witch did I ever see, and I've been around the block a few times," she tittered.

"Yeah – a few thousand times," Ban growled under his breath. From our spot on the floor, we saw Ginji-kun's leg shoot out and jab him in the shin.

"Midou-kun's grandmother is the notorious Witch Queen, yes?" Kuroudo-kun said.

"Oh, yes." Maria's curls bobbed like springs as she nodded. "Her ancestors came from the fabled European strongholds, so she was well-versed in their heritage. But she was also a very well-read and traveled woman, so she learned much more than the rites of her coven."

"What's a coven?" Ginji-kun asked as he helped himself to more pie – his fourth slab, if my eyes could be trusted.

Ban-kun answered. "A group of witches, not always but sometimes related." He had a sour look on his face as if his food hadn't agreed with him, but more likely it was just that he was displeased at having to dissect his past. "They're the keepers of the information of their rites – the history, the spells, all of it. Initiates come and go and the elders are the ones who pass on these teachings." He stopped in his explanation and shot Maria a pointed look. "Speaking of magic, hint, hint, Maria..."

If he thought that his impatience would spare him any embarrassment he was sorely mistaken. Maria pretended she hadn't heard that last part and took up the story again. "Now, Ban-kun's Nana's coven was then one of the most powerful assembly of sorcerers in the land. When I came to Germany in – oh..." She paused, pursing her shapely lips as she recalled some pertinent detail - "it had to have been before the Reichstag - "

Ginji-kun looked up, his mouth a mess of lasagna. "What's a Reichstag?"

_Doesn't that kid ever stop eating?!_ Luce gaped.

_We only wish,_ Medusa-chan replied dourly. _Bastet and I have to fight him for the breakfast leftovers sometimes. It's not a pretty sight._

"History book, Ginji. Crack one open sometime, you could learn a thing or two." Ban-kun looked even more rankled. "The Reichstag was a fire set by guerillas - "

"Monkeys know how to start fires?" Ginji-kun promptly ducked down in his seat when a blow from a thunderous-looking Ban-kun seemed imminent.

Maria took it all in stride. "No, honey, not that kind. These were rogue agents looking to stir up trouble in the country. Unfortunately, they succeeded. The German government at that time was headed towards a very repressive and cruel regime, which was why Ban-kun's Nana was making preparations to go underground. Witches weren't very well regarded back then, I'm afraid."

"Worse than that," Ban-kun muttered. "Fucking Nazi hypocrites wasted anybody they thought was a witch, all the while trying to get into the business themselves. They thought they could use magic to conquer the world."

Ginji-kun's eyes had gone wide as saucers, though he hadn't slowed any in his eating. Kuroudo-kun was watching with polite attentiveness, and it was difficult to tell whether he really found this background interesting or was merely feigning interest for manner's sake. We left off our own meals and curled around their feet to listen to the rest of the story.

"Why would anybody want to rule the world?" Ginji-kun was asking now.

"Why'd anybody want to rule Mugenjou?" Ban-kun shot back. "Think about it."

Ginji-kun frowned as he polished off a chicken leg. "But that kind of power's no fun...not when you have to hurt people..." He trailed off when he caught Kuroudo-kun smiling somewhat sadly at him.

"Do you remember what it was like when Raitei hurt people?"

Ginji-kun bowed his head. He looked like he was about to cry. "He...I...he liked it," he finished on a choked whisper.

Kuroudo-kun put a gentle hand on his sauce-smeared one. "Not all who rule are benevolent, Ginji-kun."

Luce tilted his head, noting the sudden drop in mood. _Poor kid. He's got some issues, doesn't he?_

_You have no idea,_ I said. _Ginji-kun's a sweetheart, but Medusa-chan doesn't call him the Lightning Lunatic for nothing._

Ban-kun spoke. "Akabane's right, Ginji. Any time somebody tries the whole world domination bit, it always ends badly. In this case you're talking over six million dead, and God only knows how many of those were witches. I know for a fact from talking with the old hag – my grandmother, that is, not this one - " he gestured at Maria who just raised a brow - "that half my bloodline got wiped out in the purge. Burned, tortured, beheaded, drowned, you name it, they suffered it. The rest of them scattered to the corners of the earth and haven't been heard from since. Probably got tagged too, or else they're in permanent exile wherever they can manage to find safe haven. Damn shame the witch-hunters didn't die out along with the Fuhrer." A curdled bitterness had crept into his tone, and its cold edges were reflected in his flinty blue eyes.

Ginji-kun was on the verge of an honest sobbing fit now. He always had been sensitive to pain and suffering, and I crawled up into his lap to provide him with some purrful reassurance that he had friends here who would comfort him. "But why? Why, Ban-chan? How can people be so mean to each other like that?"

"Oh, honey!" Maria rose from her seat and enveloped him in a squash of a hug. "Gin-chan, baby, it's okay." She gave Ban-kun a stern glower. "There's no need to get so graphic with him, Ban-kun."

"Feh. Better he learns it from me than the hard way."

"Ahem. I believe we were discussing Midou-kun's grandmother, not old war history," Kuroudo-kun calmly interjected. From the way he was shifting in his seat, and flexing his fingers as if in tension from a threat, I guessed that such talk was discomfiting to him as well. My human had his own ghosts to tangle with.

Brought back on-topic, Maria gave Ginji-kun a firm kiss on the top of his head. At least he didn't look so miserable now. She fluffed out the skirts of her dress and sat down again. "Well. When I came to Germany, I was still plenty young - " she ignored Ban-kun's derisive snort - "and not yet fully trained in the craft. My previous mentor had suggested that I could progress in my studies if I looked up the name of the woman who was said to be Germany's leading mistress of sorcery. So I made my way across the countryside, until I found her."

She clapped her hands together. "There is a saying that the teacher will not appear until the student is truly ready. I didn't know it at the time, but I _had_ found Ban-kun's Nana; it was just that she wasn't going to reveal herself to me until she was certain I was potential and not just another sham, or worse, someone out to harm her. Not that I could have, with my skill level being what it was back then. But there was always profit to be made from ratting suspicious people out, and she had to protect herself, of course." Maria's eyes twinkled with fond remembrance. "I'll never forget the day she took me under her wing. Here I was, a grown woman out gathering firewood, and who should run – literally run – into me but this wild-haired fire-breathing little girl who was barely sixteen!" Her laugh echoed silvery bells throughout the room.

Ban-kun scowled. "And here I thought the only person who had you beat in the age department was the old bag herself. She never told me you were a decade her senior."

Maria grinned. "What, you think that only old people are qualified to teach the young? No wonder you're so far behind in your progress, silly boy! Age is nothing but a number," she declared with a thump of her fist on the table. "My body may be ninety-nine going on a hundred and one, but my spirit isn't even a quarter of a century that far ahead. And when you have the magic to adjust Nature's unfair imbalance, why not enjoy the ride while you're around? Works for me!" She giggled.

Kuroudo-kun smiled. "I quite agree, Lady Noches-san. One should try to find as much pleasure in life as possible."

"The only pleasure she gets is in a box in the back of her closet, and it takes a fresh pair of double-A batteries," Ban-kun cracked.

"As if you never experimented, you bad boy," Maria smoothly rejoined, not at all offended by his crudity. If anything, she seemed to expect and find a sort of delight in it, for aside from few others in the room, she was probably the person who knew best how Ban-kun's early experiences had shaped him into the man he now was.

"Don't need to. What you see is what you get, unlike your freakshow," Ban-kun stated as he spread his arms out in a smug pose.

"Mm-hmm." Maria's eyes were sly with cunning. "I'll remember that, Ban-kun, when you're contemplating retirement and realizing those baby blues are looking a little droopy. I know how important appearance is to you warlock men." She grinned at Ginji-kun and Kuroudo-kun. "He was always such a prowler, even as a boy! Why, I hardly ever had to explain the facts of life to him because he was such a bookworm, always reading anything he could get his hands on - "

"Only because the old lady told me to," Ban-kun said. "Can we move on, already?"

" - asking questions of anybody who wasn't too shocked to answer – oh, remember the time you went up to that priest and asked him if his winky had fallen off and that's why he wore a 'dress'?"

"Maria," Ban-kun snarled. "I really doubt they're interested in hearing this crap..."

" - and then there was the time he got detention for bringing an anatomically-correct diagram of a couple having intercourse to school for his science project, to show how babies are made – but at least you got an A, right, Ban-kun?"

"Maria - "

The witch was in her element, relishing every moment. Beaming as any true parent would over her progeny's talent, she said, "And I'll never forget the day I walked in his room with a load of clean laundry and finally found my precious little boy crossing that time-honored threshold of manhood – his in one hand and an erotic photograph in the other!"

"MARIA!"

"I thought I was washing a few more bedsheets than I normally did!"

Ginji-kun was almost as much dropped mouth as he was bulging eyes. Kuroudo-kun kept his lips clasped together, but his eyes were nearly as large as Ginji-kun's. And poor Ban-kun's face could have matched the shade of one of Kuroudo-kun's claws when my human was upset.

"He had a very impressive member for one so young," Maria added with an unrepentant wink. "Why, if he hadn't been my charge, who knows - "

The chair shot across the floor like a bullet. Startled by the noise and the abruptness with which Ginji-kun's petting had stopped, I bolted from his lap and stared. Ban-kun grabbed Ginji-kun's shirt in one hand, and Kuroudo-kun's arm in the other, and dragged them both from their seats despite their dismayed protests. "OUT!" he roared, shoving them through the kitchen and propelling them out the door.

_No way am I missing this! _Medusa-chan said, and scurried after them. Luce and I were quick to follow; besides, neither of us was interested in hearing Ban-kun's tirade to Maria – we'd heard most of it all before.

In the parlour, Ginji-kun and Kuroudo-kun were standing with complete befuddlement written on their faces. They looked at each other, eyebrows and lips twitching, and then -

_Humans are so weird,_ Luce groused, turning away with a flick of his white tail. _I'll never understand 'em!_

_Join the club,_ Medusa-chan said, shaking her head and doing the same. _Let's go finish off the last of that seafood chowder before the table gets cleared. Coming, Bastet?_

I sighed and rose from my crouch. _The bowl's probably been smashed up by Ban-kun by now._ Shaking my head along with my sister and our friend, we three left Ginji-kun and Kuroudo-kun doubled up over in helpless snickering laughter.

Much to my disappointment, we never did get to hear the rest of Maria's story.

--

It wasn't until his temper had been spent and the dishes – unbroken, amazingly – cleared away that Ban-kun was able to corral Maria on the original purpose of our visit. Ever the gracious hostess, she had insisted that we stay for yet another cup of tea and some cookies, though after the feast we'd just gorged ourselves on it was a miracle that Ginji-kun could still find it in him to stuff his face with handful upon handful of the small treats. In a way I wasn't surprised – I had heard that Ban-kun and Ginji-kun were accustomed to life on the streets, and having once traveled that hard road myself, I knew how important it was to snatch nourishment wherever one could when the opportunity presented itself. Old habits died hard, after all.

Unlike dinner, Ban-kun had no intention of permitting an audience this time. Before he started in with Maria, he took Ginji-kun and Kuroudo-kun aside outdoors.

"Okay, kids. These are the rules."

Ginji-kun and Kuroudo-kun looked at him curiously, one with suspicion, one with anticipation.

Ban-kun turned to his partner. "You. Are not allowed to turn Raitei."

"Ban-chan, what – "

Ban-kun looked at Kuroudo-kun. "You. Are not allowed to kill him."

He addressed both of them. "No fatalities or casualties are allowed. That means you keep innocent bystanders out of it. Make sure he doesn't get lost, either," Ban-kun said to Kuroudo-kun, with a pointed gesture at an increasingly pale Ginji-kun. "If I have to come looking for him I am _not_ gonna be a happy camper." He clapped the both of them on the back and gave each a firm shove forward. "First one to pin the other, without permanently disabling him, wins. Have fun!"

"Ban-chaaaan!" Ginji-kun whined.

Kuroudo-kun chuckled and fanned out a wave of claws in his hand. "Better run, don't you think, Ginji-kun?"

"BAN-CHAAAAAAAAN!"

I ran into the parlour and bit Medusa-chan's ear. She and Luce had opted to doze after gorging themselves almost as wildly as Ginji-kun had done. _You have to come see this! Ban-kun put Kuroudo-kun and Ginji-kun to a game of cat and mouse!_

_...can't it wait till after naptime?_

Annoyed that I couldn't rouse my gluttonous sister, I batted at her tail but she persisted in slumber. I gave up and followed Ban-kun as he went to sit with Maria and discuss what was presumably strategy. He wasted no time in getting to the point as he took out the folded piece of paper that contained the strange image we'd seen. I crept up onto the back of his chair so I could listen in on their conversation.

"Exactly how much do you know about Vodou, Maria?"

She gave him a knowing smile. "Is this a hypothetical question, or is there someone involved?"

"You know I wouldn't be asking you if there wasn't."

Maria folded her hands under her chin and leaned forward, as eager as any schoolgirl thirsting for fresh gossip. "So. What has Himiko-chan been up to since our last lesson?"

"It's not Himiko I'm interested in discussing," Ban-kun told her, as both their eyes wandered near the window. Outside, Ginji-kun continued to screech as Kuroudo-kun remained intent on his stalking objective.

"Ohh," Maria exhaled in understanding.

Ban-kun nodded.

She looked pleased. "Well. The first thing you have to understand, Ban-kun, is that you aren't just dealing with a world in terms of 'good' or 'evil'. Any power can be misused regardless of where it comes from. Vodou is no different."

"What if someone wanted to use a specific entity for evil purposes?"

"Entirely possible, depending on the entity in question and the summoner's powers of manipulation," Maria agreed. "Deities are deities for a reason, Ban-kun. They encompass the entire scope of human knowledge and experience. They may occasionally learn something new from us, but most of the time, they act as teachers rather than students."

"This one's too good of an instructor," Ban-kun said. "Whatever it is, it's installed a lust for bloodshed in Kuroudo that I don't think he ever had to begin with."

"A common side effect of possession," Maria said. "The spirit's inherent nature overrides the host's will. Do you know whether or not it was a willing bond?"

"What's the difference? My mate is a homicidal maniac who kills on demand. I want that stopped, once and for all, if we're ever going to make what we have work on a permanent basis."

Maria pursed her shapely lips. "It makes a lot of difference. A willing agreement is far more difficult to break than a bond given without free consent. If your spirit is especially powerful, it will resist all efforts at banishment, and may even direct your lover to turn against you if it feels threatened."

"I don't think so," Ban-kun said after a moment's thought. "In the beginning…maybe. But Kuroudo's shown that he cares about me beyond more than just a good fight. He's got one hell of a protective streak and just like Ginji, he gets upset easily if he thinks I'm in trouble. I don't think he'd let it go that far, even under duress. He's definitely the possessive type and he won't take kindly to any attack on me, spirit or no spirit."

"Good news, then." Maria tapped her fingernails on the coffee table. "The spirit may have been summoned, but unless consent was freely given for it to take up his bodily form it remains trapped there until the spell is ended. Which likely means that whoever has taken up residence in your lover's body probably wants to get out just as much as Akabane-san wants him gone." She winked. "Spirits don't enjoy being cooped up in prison any more than we humans do."

"Great. How do we get rid of it, then?"

"A simple reopening of the gates ought to do it," Maria assured him. "We petition the head of the Vodou families – Father Legba – and ask his permission to link the two worlds. Once that's done, all we need do is unlock the spell binding the spirit to Akabane's body and it will do the rest. I take it you have a list of suspects already in mind?"

"Just one," Ban-kun replied tersely. He unfolded the copy of the thing he'd called a veve that he'd printed out and passed it to Maria. I could see in his eyes the way that his stomach churned, when her smile dropped the instant she laid eyes on it.

"Oh dear," the witch murmured.

Ban-kun scowled fiercely. "I don't like the sound of that."

Maria quickly looked up and forced a smile. "It's not that bad, Ban-kun. Granted, we do have our work cut out for us, but then, I always did enjoy a bit of a challenge." Her smile faded somewhat as she looked upon the veve again, and my fur rose slightly. Instinctively I knew that whatever that unusual pattern meant, it was a distinct threat to my humans. "It's just going to be a teensy bit trickier than we thought, is all…"

"What kind of body count are we talking here?" Ban-kun demanded flatly.

Maria hesitated. For once her eyes reflected the solemnity of one her truthful age. "Let's just say that canceling out the active spell is going to be murder."

Ban-kun's head sank onto his forearm. "That's what I was afraid of," he muttered.

She reached out and stroked his hair. "Oh, don't give up hope, Ban-kun! It's dangerous, yes, but not impossible. Frankly, I'm amazed that you've been able to get Doctor Jackal to restrict his activities at all. Usually if a spirit has melded with its host for that long it winds up taking over the person's essence. The fact that Akabane desires to scale back his violence out of concern for your sensitivity shows that you have some measure of influence over it."

Ban-kun looked up at her. He looked suddenly tired. "It's not just that. Kuroudo has a certain way of conducting business," he explained. "He's easy to deal with so long as you understand where he's coming from and make allowances for that. I've learned from trial and error that you have to be very specific with him when stating your requests."

Maria's smile was more genuine this time. "See? You've already learned how to work with the loopholes that your situation presents. It's just a matter of finding that one special one that will allow you to cast out the negative influence! Even if it is a very powerful spirit – and it is, don't misunderstand me – it hasn't completely absorbed your lover's life force. And if it's in there without his permission, so much the better, because it will make our job that much easier." She clapped her hands together. "Oh, this is going to be fun! I haven't presided over a good exorcism in years."

"You're almost as bad as he is," Ban-kun complained.

"Honey, when you live to be as old as me, you take your action where you can get it," Maria giggled. "Bedroom or battlefield, it's all the same to me, but bedroom's more fun," she teased. "Besides, once we've evicted the spirit you'll be glad enough of that, not having to worry about getting stabbed with sharp things while you're playing hide-the-sword with Akabane."

He glowered at her. "Like that's any of your damn business! Dirty old broad," he grumbled.

Maria giggled and pinched his cheek. "You say that like it's a bad thing!"

"Save your perversions for later," Ban-kun said as he crumpled up the paper veve and stuffed it back into his pants pocket. "Just tell me what I need to do so we can give the boot to this Carrefour spook."

I frowned. From the sounds of things, there was some kind of otherworldly entity attached to my human, and evidently it was causing a lot of friction for Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun. I wondered if this had anything to do with my human's fascination with violence – Kuroudo-kun never shied away from a fight if he could help it, and it had caused many an argument between them at times. Though by my observation, the spirit didn't seem inclined to cause Kuroudo-kun any harm; it was other opponents who were endangered. Interesting, that.

"Not so fast, my love," Maria warned. "Mait' Carrefour is not one to be trifled with so easily. If you're going to separate him from Akabane, it's going to take a delicate hand."

"Who's Mait' Carrefour?"

We all looked around to see a bedraggled Ginji-kun tromping into the room. His clothes looked like they'd been run through a shredder twice over, and his hair was plastered to his forehead in rivulets of sweat, and he reeked of that and unidentifiable remains of garbage. Limping right behind and clutching his shoulder for support was Kuroudo-kun, and he looked even worse than Ginji-kun. He was spattered with blood, and his clothes were hanging from his thin frame in ribbons, as if sharp implements had suddenly erupted from his body through them.

Despite his obvious wretched state, he smiled somewhat sheepishly at us as he sagged onto a nearby stepstool. "I forgot that I was carrying metal scalpels today."

Ban-kun whistled a low pitch. "Damn." He nodded at Ginji-kun. "Not bad, eel. Go wash up, both of you. You stink!"

"Okay. But who's this Carre - "

"Door-to-door salesgrubber," Ban-kun quickly cut him off before Maria could volunteer an explanation. "Don't worry about it."

Ginji-kun looked like he was about to contest further, but shrugged and turned to leave. He offered a hesitant smile to Kuroudo-kun. "Sorry about the electromagnet, Akabane-san. I didn't want to do it, but, well..." He grimaced. "It won't take too long to heal back up, will it?"

"It's quite all right," Kuroudo-kun assured him. "I just need to rest for a while. Thank you for such a wonderful duel, Ginji-kun. I must say you've improved upon your defense considerably since last we fought." He was pale-faced and looked on the verge of toppling over, but he managed one more polite, pained smile. "Now will you be a dear and help me up so that I can refresh myself, please?"

--

Under the circumstances, Maria's hospitality extended to booking us an overnight stay, and though Ban-kun protested the loudest as usual, even he couldn't argue the wisdom of avoiding the midnight streets of Mugenjou for safety's sake. He, Kuroudo-kun and Ginji-kun were each treated to a luxurious soak in the guest bathroom, one at a time (though Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun opted to share), while Maria whisked away everyone's clothes (or what was left of them), promising fresh garments for all as she went to make up the spare bedroom and the couch.

Medusa-chan and I were prompt in staking our claim on the guest bed. We would be sharing with Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun, who were no strangers to acrobatic feats when it came to accommodating space-conscious felines on the same bed. Ginji-kun would take the couch in the parlour, and Luce threatened to smother him in his sleep unless sufficient bedding there was also provided to him; like any self-respecting cat, he regarded Maria's house and everything in it as his personal property.

We bid him and Ginji-kun a good night and left them to squabble over who would have territorial rights to the pillow. In the guest bedroom, a pajamaed Ban-kun was sitting on the bed, cleaning his glasses. Kuroudo-kun emerged from the adjoining bathroom clad in just a towel, combing out his still-damp hair. In the soft glow of the bedroom lamp, even his scars were lent a forgiving warmth.

"Hey, Jackal. Wanna get it on?"

Kuroudo-kun chuckled. The wounds he'd suffered from his fight with Ginji-kun had mostly healed and vanished, but a few still lingered, and they were wrapped with gauze or adhesive bandages, depending on the severity. He'd apologized profusely to Maria for bleeding all over her stool, but she'd just laughed it off and said into each life a few bloodstains must fall, a statement which had seemed to please Kuroudo-kun greatly. He set his comb on the dresser and went to Ban-kun, stooping over him to plant a kiss on the side of his forehead.

"Don't be crude, Midou-kun. Remember where we're at."

"How could I forget?" Ban-kun snorted. "Swear to God, every frickin' time I come here with guests the old bat has to break out that jacking-off-over-the-picture story! I swear she does it just to embarrass me!"

"Of course she does," Kuroudo-kun responded as he inspected the repaired clothing Maria had left for him. In any other case his wardrobe would have been written off as a complete loss to the rag-bin, but magic could work wonders with tailoring. "That's her way of reminding you of how much you mean to her."

Ban-kun rolled his eyes and set his glasses on the nightstand. "She could try writing me a check instead, that does miracles for personal relations, I'm told."

Kuroudo-kun reached out to stroke his fingers over my tail as I settled on the bed next to an already-dozing Medusa-chan – she of the enviable ability to fall asleep at a moment's notice – to prepare myself for the evening's rest. "Greed is a most unbecoming trait, Midou-kun. All things in moderation, after all."

"Says he of the endless fountain of Js," Ban-kun grunted, leaning back against the wall.

Kuroudo-kun's smile curled into mischievous acknowledgment. "I never said I was perfect, Ban-kun."

_Besides, perfection is our department,_ I told them.

"No, but you act like it," Ban-kun said. "Perfect pain in the ass, that is. So why don't we put yours to good use and have us some fun while the getting's good, eh?"

He sat up and stretched his arm out to grab Kuroudo-kun and pull him down to the bed, but Kuroudo-kun neatly dodged the grasp and headed for the bathroom, pajamas in tow.

"Hey!"

Kuroudo-kun paused in the doorway of the bathroom. "Hay is for horses, Midou-kun."

Ban-kun scowled and stood up. "Don't sass me, Jackal. Are we gonna go for it or what?"

"No, we are not going to 'go for it', Midou-kun." Kuroudo-kun gave him a stern look. "We are guests in someone's home. One does not casually engage in intimate relations within the boundaries of a host's domicile. It's quite impolite, I must say. Whatever would Lady Noches think? I know she raised you better than that."

I wondered if Ban-kun's facial tics had always been part of him, or if he'd developed them in response to his mate's obstinacy. "Jackal. I'm gonna count to three. By the time I hit two you better be naked and in that bed."

Kuroudo-kun's sinister chuckle wafted through the room. Threats not only failed to move him, they kindled his interest in things not quite as much to Ban-kun's delight as lovemaking. "Why, Ban-kun. Are you trying to start a fight?"

Ban-kun must have realized his error there, because he made no sound save for a noise of self-disgust. He waved a hand at Kuroudo-kun and flopped back onto the bed in a sulk.

Kuroudo-kun took pity on him. He laid aside his pajamas and went to him, affectionately rubbing his shoulders. "Now, now. Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder."

Ban-kun looked up with sour blue. "That's absence, you idiot, and all it's doing is making me crazy."

"Honestly, Midou-kun. It's not as if you don't get plenty at home," Kuroudo-kun chastised. "One night without isn't going to kill you." He smiled deviously and held up a pair of fingers, accompanied by twin shining points. "I on the other hand..."

"Spare me the hardware display. We have here a perfect opportunity for amusement and all you can jabber about is manners? Trust me, if anybody could give less of a shit about manners, it's Maria. She makes up her own rules as she goes."

"Rather like you, hmm?" Kuroudo-kun's smile could have cut glass.

Ban-kun ignored him. He crawled to his knees and pulled Kuroudo-kun to him, squeezing both sides of his waist. That towel wasn't going to last much longer if he kept doing that, but I think that was his intention. "Listen. Knowing Maria, she'd tell us to our faces to get laid just so she could watch. I made sure she's got her nose buried in books looking up what I told her to look up. Ginji's out cold – you see how many of those cookies he stuffed down tonight? He'll be a zombie till morning. If it wasn't for his electromagnetism he'd be comatose from the sugar shock." He swept an arm at the room. "It's just you...and me..." he knee-crawled in closer to Kuroudo-kun - "...and this nice big warm bed...why don't we take advantage?"

His right hand suddenly darted beneath Kuroudo-kun's towel and I thought for certain it would be separated from his wrist a second later, but evidently his gentler suggestion was having more of a persuasive effect on Kuroudo-kun. Purple eyes had widened slightly from the surprise, but were now lowering to a half-lidded pleasure while Ban-kun's arm moved back and forth in slow counterpoint. "I suppose...if we kept it quiet..." Kuroudo-kun murmured against Ban-kun's lips.

"Hell with quiet," Ban-kun growled in between kisses. "Somebody needs to let the old broad know that she's not getting any and who better than us to do it." He broke off suddenly, his eyes narrowing with thought. "Wait. Lock the door."

"I beg your pardon?" Kuroudo-kun hadn't yet recovered from the halt in their affections and he looked at his lover with slightly clouded-over eyes.

"A precaution," Ban-kun explained. "Maria's perverted enough she'd take pictures if she could and last time I was here she'd just bought a new digital camera. Lock the door," he repeated.

"Ahh," Kuroudo-kun nodded in understanding, and went to obey promptly. "Yes, prudence is certainly a virtue if we're to commit the grievous sin of defying polite decorum." The tone of his voice implied that he had not been terribly concerned with said etiquette to begin with. My human simply enjoyed playing his own games for his own ends.

He returned to Ban-kun after securing the room and the two of them resumed where they'd left off. I had barely enough time to bolt out of the way before a towel was dumped on the spot where I'd been planning to sleep. I nudged Medusa-chan.

_Better get up. You know what's coming next._

_I was here first. They want to rut like fools, let them do it on the floor. Gods know we've caught them in stranger places when they get in these moods!_

_Suit yourself._ I hopped down from the bed and found a small chair in the corner that was suitably comfortable. After pawing aside a few miscellaneous knickknacks and kneading the cushion to my liking, I settled down with face buried in my tail, hopefully to drown out some of the noise our humans were sure to make in their pursuit of happiness. A brief squawk informed me that despite her firm stand, my sister had been abruptly robbed of her nap-space and deposited without further ceremony on the floor alongside Ban-kun's pajama bottoms.

I opened one eye to see the fuzzy bringer of death glaring outrage from beneath one of the pant legs. _KurOHdo-KUN!_ she hissed. _Oh, will he pay dearly for this! You mark my words, Bastet! That was MY spot! Bloody randy sods, the both of them! Don't they know that the bed is automatically feline's right of way?!_

_At least they didn't kick us out of the room this time,_ I yawned. _Let's just sleep it off the best that we can. We've a big day on Monday, you know. And since revenge is a dish best served chilled, there's always that hairball you promised for their mission...!_

_--_

TBC


	35. Meet The Parents part 4

Title: Meet The Parents (part 4)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #23 – "candy"

Rating: R (m/m, language)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor spoilers for the history between Ban and Maria Noches; also spoilers for the manga ending.

Notes: This veers into AU territory as it references events from the manga ending, but I alter things for my own purposes.  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Akabane's mom, however, is totally mine. And she won't hesitate to let you know it. XD  
Summary: Surprises of the relative kind are in store for both Ban and Akabane, and everybody gets a little eye candy – even dirty old women!

--

III: The Mother (of all Calamities)

Back at home and safely away from the chaos of Maria's, Monday dawned crisp with expectation in the air. Medusa-chan and I kept to our usual schedules so as not to arouse suspicion with our humans, though we did finish our breakfast a bit faster than usual. We wanted to be prepared for our own missions ahead, and timing was critical. Ginji-kun was due to arrive shortly.

"Akabane! Where the hell are my car keys?!" Ban-kun was snarling as he ripped apart a kitchen drawer.

"They're in the office where you left them last night, dearest," Kuroudo-kun said while studying his reflection in the bathroom mirror, straightening his perfectly-knotted tie. "Shall I fetch them for you while you finish getting ready?"

"Yeah."

I sighed and shook my head. _Ban-kun is so hopeless sometimes. Kuroudo-kun would never misplace his possessions like that._

_Only his scalpels,_ Medusa-chan smirked. I couldn't argue that – my human was notorious for laying his claws aside and then forgetting they had been left in different locations. Ban-kun had once pitched a fit after discovering one in the bathroom when, still half-asleep, he'd gone to wash his face and had grabbed unthinkingly for what he thought was a bar of soap.

We surreptitiously made our way to the front door, curling into what might have appeared to be benign rest but was really taut readiness. We were going to bolt straight out of our lair the instant that Ginji-kun came and the door was opened. Getting outside of the building itself might be a little more difficult, but Medusa-chan and I had decided that we could raise enough alarm in the lobby to entreat one of the other tenants to open the main door before Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun could recapture us.

After delivering the promised keys Kuroudo-kun had donned his big black hat, a favorite bed of mine when he wasn't using it. He went to Ban-kun and kissed him. "I hope you have a good day, Midou-kun."

"Same here. You too," he answered, his meaning entirely different from Kuroudo-kun's, and I wondered if it had anything to do with what he and Maria had discussed. Again, I thought of the strange name that had elicited chills in my blood – Mait' Carrefour – and wondered what this had to do with my human.

Kuroudo-kun smiled placation. "Don't worry. I've told Gouzou that every time an opponent attacks, he's to remind me of how close we are to going on our trip." His smile suddenly became flirtatious danger. "Would you let me have a little more fun if I wrote a B for you instead of a J?" he teased.

"Depends on who gets to be the unlucky scorecard. Something tells me that none of the names from my list are contenders yet," Ban-kun snorted, and kissed him back.

Precisely as their lips touched the door trembled from an enthusiastic beating. "Ban-chan! Time to go!" Ginji-kun sang from the other side of it.

Time to go indeed. Medusa-chan and I looked at each other, and crouched for takeoff.

"Do come in, Ginji-kun!" Kuroudo-kun called as Ban-kun grabbed his necessities – wallet, glasses, keys – and the two of them approached.

Poor Ginji-kun had no idea what lay in wait for him. He threw open the door with all the vigor that we had come to expect from him, and even as it was winking away from the closure we were slamming ourselves against the open crack, wedging our lithe bodies through the slim gate and barreling past his legs before he even knew what had hit him. Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun didn't even have time to utter any shocked cries of disapproval.

That they had noticed our abrupt departure at all was a given. It was hard to ignore the volts of electricity when they were singeing nearby walls from fright. "Gyaaahh! What was THAT!?" Ginji-kun shrieked behind us.

"The hell! Medusa!" Ban-kun bellowed.

"Bastet!" Kuroudo-kun barked, equally as sharp. His voice could be quite cutting when he raised it above his normal mellow expressions.

_Never mind them, head for the lobby door! _Medusa-chan said. We did, charging down the stairs and through the hall in near-flight as our toe-tips barely touched ground. Luck was with us and we chanced upon the building's front door just as the mailman was arriving with his parcels. He yelped when he realized he was about to be mowed down by a pair of miniature furred cannonballs and darted out of our path in a flurry of dropped letters. We scooted through the closing door just in time with only a few hairs on the ends of our tails to spare.

_Now what?! _

_Hide,_ I said. _You get in Ban-kun's car - I'll wait for Kuroudo-kun and trail him to Gouzou-kun's truck!_

_Good luck, Bastet!_ my sister chittered, and bounded for the car parked down the street. For her sake I hoped that Ban-kun had left the windows open, but I couldn't dwell on that now. I had to find my own hiding place – out of the corner of my eye I'd spotted the ripple of a black coat fast descending.

I quickly found another car nearby and crawled beneath it, angling my head so that I could see just enough to keep appraised of anything close by yet remain safely concealed. Footsteps clattered, and I slowed my breath to silence.

"Damn cats! What the fuck got into them?!"

"Ban-chan, what happened?"

"They can't have gotten too far, Midou-kun. Perhaps they noticed something outside that caused them to panic. An impending earthquake?"

"Shit, I don't have time for this!" Ban-kun's voice was already quivering with anxiety. He was likely relieved that he had an excuse to blow off his unquestionably perilous job, but that was negated by his fear over what horrid fate might befall us unchaperoned. "We can't just leave them out there!"

"I could stay and look for them while you go find the retrieval package," Ginji-kun offered.

"I'll stay too," Kuroudo-kun volunteered. "Even if work does hold the possibility of some quality entertainment, it would be remiss of us to abandon the poor dears to fend for themselves. These streets aren't fit for stray cats."

I scowled, ears flattening with displeasure. I hadn't counted on Kuroudo-kun's willingness to switch missions once he was distracted. Still, if he and Ban-kun had been set up to fight each other to the death, the guilty party's intention would be cancelled anyway so long as the two of them couldn't meet en route to their deliveries.

"No, you go meet up with Himiko and No-Brakes. We need that cash," Ban-kun snapped. "Dammit. Of all the - " He cursed a string of obscenities and stomped his feet. "Come on, Ginji. They're probably hidden somewhere we won't find them and they won't come out till they're damn good and ready. I hope to God they're just spooked and waiting for us by the time we get back..."

"I'm sure they'll be all right, Ban-kun," Kuroudo-kun said softly, though his tone carried a lilt of doubt. "They've disappeared on us before and always come home safely..."

"Yeah, Ban-chan. Cats are smart," Ginji-kun said hopefully. "Shido told me about some of them that got stranded on one side of the country and they were able to track their owners all the way to the other side."

Ban-kun didn't reply. He just stalked off for his car, and after a moment, Ginji-kun and Kuroudo-kun followed in his wake.

I carefully peered out from my hiding place. Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun were exchanging terse goodbyes before Ban-kun and Ginji-kun got inside the little Subaru. I didn't see any sign of Medusa-chan, so I assumed that she had either made it inside the car or was even now lurking like myself, doubtless cursing her failure with the same vitriol that Ban-kun had used.

The car pulled away from the curb and Kuroudo-kun began walking along the sidewalk, his pace measured but brisk. He was a man with a purpose.

I, also being with a purpose, slunk after him. This should be interesting.

--

Kuroudo-kun knew the city quite well despite his claims of disliking its layout, and I was no slouch in memory myself. Long before my lovely human had first welcomed my arrival with open arms, I had traveled these same streets many a cold and lonely night, until my sister had discovered me on one of her jaunts and demanded that I accompany her back to what was now our seat of rule. We traveled quickly, I in stealth and secrecy to avoid being discovered, and with surprising swiftness we came upon Gouzou-kun and Lady Himiko at the train station.

Kuroudo-kun greeted them with his customary smiles and inquiries, and they responded in kind while I made my way around the back of the enormous monster that Gouzou-kun called his transport. Medusa-chan had said it was actually a rather pleasant vehicle, but I begged to differ. It loomed above like a giant demonic canine, ready to bite at anything that was foolish enough to enter its path. I hunched to the pavement, fur halfway rising as I studied its huge rubber paws. It would have no trouble reducing a bundle like me to mincemeat. Yet I must dare this creature's fury if I were to complete my objective.

The back side door was pulled in close but not shut completely, and I gauged that there would be enough room for me to squeeze myself inside undetected. Gathering my courage, I climbed up the side of one of those fearsome wheels and vaulted onto the steps, nudging the door aside to board the truck.

The belly of the beast was not empty. Upon the pull-down seat in the cab's rear sat a woman, and a rather pretty one at that. From a quick glance I determined that she was older than Lady Himiko but not quite as youthful-looking as Maria. She was dressed in a pastel pink suit-dress that highlighted her fair complexion, and she wore a matching hat probably about half the size of Kuroudo-kun's. She seemed not to notice me as I perused my surroundings.

Conversation outside drew my attention. I poked my nose through the cracked door. "We've already picked up our delivery," Lady Himiko was saying. "I was told that someone would be waiting in the alley to give us further instructions, but so far Maguruma and I haven't seen a thing."

"Not to worry, Lady Poison," Kuroudo-kun replied. "I have a feeling that our benefactor shall appear shortly, so why don't you two start the truck while I search this person out?"

Indeed, a presence was making my whiskers vibrate with alertness. I could smell something odd in the air, a kind of warping of oxygen that made one think of oncoming rain. It was like the charges that Ginji-kun expelled whenever he was upset, and yet, it reeked of a mechanical coolness that tasted alien to flesh and blood creatures. Movement in the alley across the street caught my attention, and a flash of white made my eyes widen. There.

Kuroudo-kun had sensed it too, for he was already crossing the street and entering the alley, his face set in calm focus. I had the peculiar feeling that he was expecting this stranger and, moreover, that he was familiar with her in a way that Ban-kun would most certainly disapprove of – not in any romantic sense though.

I listened intently for what I could, but the streets were too noisy from the comings and goings of trains and people for me to pick up on anything. I could see a bit of Kuroudo-kun's face underneath his hat, and something the young girl in the white dress said to him made him smile immensely. Apparently whatever had been disclosed was good news.

I was puzzled. Why would a child hire transporters? Surely this one could not afford their extravagant fees...unless she came from a wealthy family, of course.

Their exchange was brief and shortly thereafter Kuroudo-kun was returning to his companions, who had climbed inside the truck. Gouzou-kun started the engine, and reminded of my precarious position, I squirmed my way up the wall and onto the shelf above the pink lady, behind a set of cleaning supplies where I could have a nice vantage point to keep an eye on things.

"Well? Did you find whoever hired us?" Lady Himiko demanded. She could be quite imperious like Ban-kun when she was of a mind to.

"Oh yes," Kuroudo-kun said. "We are to take the northern route until further notice. Though I was briefed that our competition may catch up with us well before that time," he finished with a sinister chuckle.

"We drive around town without a destination in mind waiting for somebody to catch up with us? I've had stranger trips, I guess," Gouzou-kun said with a shrug of his big shoulders. He was very easygoing and I'd never heard him raise his voice in anger, except for the time when Medusa-chan had left dusty footprints across the hood of his truck after it had been newly-washed.

Lady Himiko was not as malleable. The curiosity in her voice was evident as she expressed her dissatisfaction with these meager instructions. "It doesn't make any sense. I thought we were going to make the drop-off someplace." She turned around in her seat and addressed the pink lady. "You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you, ma'am?"

"I'm afraid not," the pink lady responded quietly. She seemed somewhat on edge, though I doubted it was because of the company she was keeping. Lady Himiko had spoken to her in almost deferential tones, as if seeking to put her at ease. "All I was told was that I would be traveling today and that someone was coming to pick me up."

"Well, there's little we can do about it except to proceed as planned," Gouzou-kun said. "It should be a smoother ride, anyway, if we're keeping to the city limits."

"Perhaps. But I have a feeling that this is going to be a most amusing drive regardless," Kuroudo-kun chuckled in that manner of his when he was deliberately teasing someone. He settled himself in the back of the cab, on the floor in front of the pink lady, and I was grateful for the wide brim of his hat that blocked his immediate view of anything above. All he would have had to do was look up just high enough and he surely would have seen the swaying rope of my tail that stuck out from my hiding spot.

Lady Himiko was less than pleased by my human's playful mood. "Akabane, one of these days I'm going to drown you in my puppet perfume and make you spill whatever beans you seem to think are so funny to keep from the rest of us."

He uttered throaty mirth at her threat. "Why, Himiko-san!" he purred. "Are you saying that I fail to supply my partners with critical information? Do I not provide ample support and assistance during any of our missions?"

"I'm saying that you're a sneaky weasel with a bad habit of acting like you know something that we don't," she shot back without rancor.

"Now, now, Himiko-san," Kuroudo-kun laughed. "Only time will tell whether your suspicions are founded. No?" he asked coquettishly, and I instantly recognized the feline indolence in his voice. He _did_ know something! A hunch told me that it could only revolve around the extra passenger, of whose presence we had yet to hear about, for she sat quietly and apparently was content to keep her own counsel unless spoken to.

I wondered how Medusa-chan was faring with Ban-kun and Ginji-kun. A fluttering in my chest assured me that the Get Backers were going to be very startled upon learning of their true goal, if it was anything like the thoughts in my head.

Gouzou-kun was an excellent driver, and his steering was so seamless that before long I began to doubt my original concerns of hazard when nothing more innocuous than the spread of repetitive traffic and asphalt greeted our sights through the windshield. Maybe Medusa-chan and I had gotten worried for nothing. Maybe it had all just been a fancy of ours. Miss Hevn the negotiator hadn't acted any more out of place than her normal demeanor. And our humans did have a tendency to get themselves embroiled in some unusual situations, and extricate themselves almost as neatly as Gouzou-kun weaved throughout the lanes.

Kuroudo-kun had struck up a conversation with the pink lady. "I'm not certain what you've been appraised of," he said, kindly as ever. "But I can assure you that our services are of the highest standards. You needn't worry that your time will be passed in any discomfort. If you have need of something, please do let us know and we will do our best to see that your voyage is conducted with as much ease as we can. Oh, but please forgive me. I haven't yet introduced myself formally, have I? I am Akabane Kuroudo, also known as Doctor Jackal, and these are my colleagues Kudou Himiko-san and Maguruma Gouzou-san. They are known as Lady Poison and Mr. No-Brakes, respectively."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'm sure that you transporters are quite capable in your work," the pink lady answered. Her voice was low in volume but mellifluous, smooth and gentle, and it contained a bewildering element of familiarity. I knew I couldn't have met this woman before today, but something about her...I could smell it, literally, but I couldn't place it...

"I must warn you as a courtesy, however," Kuroudo-kun said seriously. "I choose my jobs based upon how entertaining they can be. If a mission holds the prospect of lethal battle, you may be certain that I am present for a reason."

"It's all right," the pink lady said calmly, as if expecting him to have said such to her.

Kuroudo-kun continued, solemn yet slightly apologetic in his speech. "You may have to watch him be gravely injured, or maybe even killed, if we should clash in locked combat." He paused thoughtfully as he studied the pink lady. "Or perhaps this is your wish...?"

She neither denied nor confirmed this. "It is all right," she repeated. "I suppose we'll learn one way or another. Besides, they are the Get Backers, aren't they?"

My fur puffed out like a cumulonimbus cloud's mounting currents. How in all the good names of my goddess patron could she possibly know of Ban-kun's and Ginji-kun's business?! _Oh, Medusa-chan, I wish you could hear this, _I thought, more anxious now than ever before. It seemed we were right all along in following our humans on this fateful morning!

Kuroudo-kun seemed pleased by the pink lady's mention. The smile was warm in his voice as he responded. "Yes, this is true. Well, I think that I would rather like to have Ginji-kun as my opponent this time around." He cast a backwards glance at Lady Himiko. "What about you, Himiko-san? Will you fight against Midou-kun?"

"If he gives me any trouble," she answered wryly.

"And he'd never do that," Gouzou-kun deadpanned. "Another trip in the trenches. Sometimes I think my wife's right when she says I should just stick to taxis. Most trouble I've ever had there was the occasional drunk bum throwing up in the backseat."

"You'll never quit the transporting business," Kuroudo-kun told him affectionately. "You like it too much. You'd be bored to tears if you didn't have us around."

"As usual, a weirdo like you overestimates his personal appeal," Gouzou-kun retorted.

Kuroudo-kun laughed heartily at that. "Sticks and stones, Gouzou," he replied smugly, to the muffled sounds of Lady Himiko's amusement.

Their camaraderie immediately ceased when Gouzou-kun spotted something in one of his mirrors. "Batten down the hatches, kids, 'cause here they come. And your significant other looks pretty pissed off about something, Jackal."

"Oh dear," Kuroudo-kun sighed.

"Not another argument?" Lady Himiko asked in dread.

"Oh no," Kuroudo-kun assured her. "You see, our cats got outside right before we left for work, and we didn't have the time to recover them if we were both going to make our assignments on schedule. Poor Ban-kun, he must be worried sick," he fretted as he made his own unhappiness plain. I felt a momentary pang of guilt for having caused both men this unease, but I reminded myself that it was for his and Ban-kun's own good.

"I'm sure you could call Shido Fuyuki and ask him to find them. He's got a gift for working with missing animals," Lady Himiko said. "That is, if Ban's not too stubborn an ass to stoop to asking his archrival for help."

"I shall certainly put the idea to him once we've completed our commission," Kuroudo-kun agreed, having perked up at this suggestion. "Maybe if we aren't too engaged in our fight I could ask Ginji-kun if he'd contact Fuyuki-san."

"While you're at it you can trade recipes," Gouzou-kun said in a no-nonsense tone. The truck suddenly veered to one side. "Right now you need to help me concentrate on the road."

"Of course." Kuroudo-kun smiled at the pink lady and rose. "Please excuse me while I attend to my responsibilities."

_Oh dear. I think Miss Hevn is going to have more than just a bloodied shoe to scream about once Ban-kun collects the check from her...!_

I hadn't any more time to pursue this line of thought, because the truck started to jerk and dart in a zigzagging through traffic. I had to dig my claws into the shelf to avoid toppling off of it.

"He's too smart," Lady Himiko reluctantly confessed. "He knows I'll hit them with the devolution perfume if they get too close to us."

"Have you another poison capable of crossing greater distances?" Kuroudo-kun asked as he stood in the doorway right behind her.

"Just the flame, but that won't do us any good in these close quarters. I'd set everybody else on fire even if I did score a direct hit on their car."

"They won't risk involving others," Gouzou-kun pointed out. "As long as I keep evading them there's not much they can do besides chase us indefinitely."

"But we can still have our playtime," Kuroudo-kun chuckled, and stepped back to unlock the door to the rear cab. "I beg your pardon, milady. The wind."

Pink lady didn't answer. I couldn't see her face from where I was, but I had the distinct impression that she was resigned to this confrontation, though a part of her both anticipated and dreaded it as well. Curious, that.

Keeping one hand firmly on his hat, Kuroudo-kun opened the door and leaned out to wave at the figures behind the truck. "Hello, Midou-kun! Ginji-kun! What a wonderful surprise this is! Isn't it a beautiful day for a challenge?"

Lady Himiko snorted while he pulled the door shut again. "You keep threatening to cut off that finger of his, but I've yet to see you make even a passing attempt at it."

"Oh, it's just Ban-kun being Ban-kun. He needs a complete set of fingers for his Snakebite attack, you know," Kuroudo-kun said tolerantly, amused by his mate's profane response.

"He needs a lesson in the rules of the road, is what he needs," Gouzou-kun growled. "Let's see him try this on for size!" I nearly squealed in alarm as the truck gouged a path perpendicular to the present highway boundaries before surging forward in a burst of speed.

Ban-kun was not to be foiled, however. Over the truck engine's rising rumble Lady Himiko let out a cry of surprise. "What's he doing? He's crazy, using the nitrous in this traffic!" Indeed, a bubble of white now appeared in the visible windshield seconds after her exclamation. The truck shuddered and jolted, weaving from side to side as our chauffeur struggled to keep it moving forward while trying not to crush anything else.

"How quaint, Gouzou. They think they can get you to stop," Kuroudo-kun remarked over the blare of angry horns from other drivers.

The driver was not impressed. "I'd pancake 'em, except that I know how much you like having your boyfriend all in one working piece. So what should I do?"

"Let's play along. I'm curious to see how Midou-kun will handle it." I caught a glimpse of my human's face in the central rearview mirror. Kuroudo-kun was grinning like a fiend. "Shall we, Himiko-san? It's been ages since I've tried a good Flaming Arrow."

She made a grim chuckle to match his delight. "Flaming Arrow? You're not going to make it easy on him, are you?"

"Certainly not. Where would the fun in that be?" Kuroudo-kun chirped.

The click of an unbuckling seat belt was heard as Lady Himiko made to rise from her seat. She muttered something under her breath that sounded like "you guys give new meaning to the phrase 'lovers' spat'..."

"Hurry," Kuroudo-kun nearly begged. "I don't want to miss a moment of this."

Lady Himiko was smiling with him, part amusement and part exasperated tolerance. "Doctor Jackal, you are _insane,_" she pronounced.

He was shameless in his reply. "What else do you expect when insanity is recruited at its finest? What can I say. I try to contain myself, but I always escape."

She answered back with a retort of her own, but the whistle of wind and screech of horns – or maybe it was tires, as the rest of the travelers on this strange highway veered around the cat-and-mouse caravan we formed – overrode her voice. I watched as she climbed out the door after Kuroudo-kun, the two of them quick and nimble like felines themselves in their hunt for the trophy.

The door slapped shut in their wake, and I was left with the pink lady in the rear of the lorry. Since the beginning of this trip, she hadn't said much, and the ensuing chase seemed about as likely to induce further conversation as anything else thus far. I sniffed the air to see if I could detect any more clues, but all I could gather was a sense of anxiety, an expectation that was as much hopeful as it was feared. Again, I had the curious sense that I knew this woman from somewhere, someplace close, but all searches of my memory turned up nothing.

Who was she? Why was she so interested in my human Ban-kun? Did she know of this apparent plot, to set Kuroudo-kun against him in spite of the lovers' vows to each other? Could she even be the one responsible for this entire mission in the first place?

"Hoah, watch the windshield with those things, Jackal!" My gaze shot forward, where Gouzou-kun was clenching the wheel white-faced. He'd pulled out a small video screen from the console of his truck, and rendered there in living color were Lady Himiko and Kuroudo-kun on the top of the trailer.

Lady Himiko was holding a bottle of her infamous perfume. She had more scents than either Medusa-chan or I could ever count, but she only ever took along seven vials on any given job. I had heard her explain it once to Miss Hevn, that the number of potions used was as important as the types. To use too many at once could conceivably cause the perfumes to overload each one's power, and backfire badly upon Lady Himiko. I figured it also had something to do with the half-magician's blood that she shared with Ban-kun; she was almost as well-versed in sorcery as he was.

Onscreen, Kuroudo-kun turned to his cohort with a delighted smile, one hand raised to his head to prevent his hat from being blown away. His other hand was sporting his own hallmark weapons. Lady Himiko held out her perfume, and he lifted his spike-encrusted hand. She tipped the bottle to the point of each scalpel, igniting them as one might a group of candles. But unlike those welcoming spindles, these flames offered a far riskier greeting to contend with – and judging from the tattered, smoking canopy that the top of Ban-kun's car had already been reduced to in the few moments since the transporters had gone on the offensive, Ban-kun wasn't doing very well in evasive maneuvers.

I caught a glimpse of Ginji-kun's panicky squealing in the rearview mirror of Ban-kun's car. My eyes darted to the video monitor, and I was just in time to see Kuroudo-kun raise his arm in the air and cast it, lit knives and all, towards the Get Backers with the grace of a seasoned orchestra conductor. Simultaneously Ban-kun's car buzzed ahead and to the side, jerking between other cars like some sort of drunken bug. The erratic path didn't help much and the flaming arrows diffused over their target: one lopped off the mirror, one twanged off the top of the car, one thudded into a taillight (where it found rest with its fellows like the quills of a porcupine's back), and the last pinged straight through the back window and out the front of the Subaru's windshield without ever missing a beat.

"Oh my..." The soft exhalation had come from the pink lady, and I swiveled my attention to her. She had spotted the camera and was watching as intently as I was. "The doctor's skills certainly weren't exaggerated, were they?"

Gouzou-kun heard her. "This is just a warm-up for him. Wait'll you see Akabane _really_ get wound up. If anybody can whip him into a frenzy, it's those two guys in the sardine can. Especially the guy driving. Just a word of advice, though. If he tries to get you to look into his eyes, don't."

"Oh?"

"I don't know how he does it, but Jackal's boyfriend has some kind of weird power that lets him make people think they're seeing something that doesn't exist. Guy zapped me once and I almost ran us right off the road."

"Hmm." The sound was not so much one of intrigue as it was acknowledgment, a remembrance of something only the pink lady held to herself. "They say you don't stop for anything, Maguruma-san."

"Not if I can help it," Gouzou-kun said, sounding pleased with himself.

He was forced to put his creed to the test, however, when seconds later the truck shuddered violently enough to throw everyone and everything in it forward. I couldn't dig my claws into the shelf fast enough to keep from being pitched tail over paws – and I tumbled squarely onto the top of the pink lady's back.

_REAOOOORRRRR!_

"_Ahhh!"_

"The hell - ?! " Gouzou-kun had little time to share in our traveling companion's surprise, for he was too engrossed in steering the vehicle to a safer position after one of Ban-kun's kamikaze driving stunts had necessitated a sudden stomping of the brakes. Pink lady was still gasping, crying out while her arms flailed around me like a broken windmill, and I was too fixated on righting myself from the fall to take much concern for either human's distress. I managed to scrabble over the woman's shoulders and on top of her hat, where I leapt from her head and onto the closest available safe perch: the front passenger seat next to Gouzou-kun.

He took little notice of my appearance, probably more worried about preserving his reputation than reassuring or chastising unnerved stowaway felines. But now I had a better view of the unfolding action, and what I saw was not good. Kuroudo-kun and Lady Himiko had stopped throwing lit mini-torches, but a grim-faced Ginji-kun – most likely prodded by a raving Ban-kun – was gritting his teeth and even now climbing onto the front of the truck. I strained to peer over the dashboard, but I couldn't see any sign of Medusa-chan, and I hoped that she was safe, if she was in the car at all.

Gouzou-kun grabbed the speaker of his CB transmitter. "Get 'em off the truck!" he barked into it, and I was puzzled as to why he should be so concerned about Ginji-kun's safety until I saw the sparks of electricity dancing from his fingertips as he scrambled over the hood and up across the windshield. Evidently human batteries were incompatible with vehicular ones.

Thumps overhead signaled Kuroudo-kun's and Lady Himiko's willingness to obey the direction, and it began to sound as though a hailstorm had unleashed overhead. Coupled with the blustery wind from the half-opened window behind me, the racket was probably going to treat me to a session of ringing ears afterward. I could hear Kuroudo-kun's enthusiastic announcement from above - "Hello, Ginji-kun! Shall we?" This was quickly followed by the strike of something hard against resisting force; Ginji-kun's opening hadn't fared well judging by Kuroudo-kun's next words: "I'm sorry, Ginji-kun. These aren't metal today, I'm afraid." I cringed with a hiss as I folded my ears back, the noise adding to what was already an increasingly stressful trip.

Then the pink lady came up front.

"I didn't know that this Ginji Amano was so dangerous," she said, steadying herself with a hand on the back of the seat where I was. She looked pale and her hair was slightly mussed, but otherwise she was all right. Now that I had a view of her face, she was even more interesting. A pretty woman, definitely older than Lady Himiko but nowhere near Maria's true age. Somewhere in between, I decided, thinking that she was at least as old as Paul Wan, though I would have put her ahead of him if I had to wager a more solid guess. She had shoulder-length dark blonde hair, not like Miss Hevn's but more muted, hinting of autumn's first glaze, the way that sand warms on a beach at sunrise. Her eyes were wide and seemed to be gray, from what I could tell beneath the shade of her hat.

But it was the shape of her face that drew my fascination the most. Something about the structure of it, the way she held her head high, chin forward with a certain determination...it reminded me of something...someone I'd seen do such a thing...

"Electric boy's not a fighter," Gouzou-kun was saying now. "At least, he doesn't go for it the way that Jackal does. He's a soft touch at heart, so you don't have to worry that he'll attack us personally. He always does his best to back off if a fight looks likely. But if he's forced into a corner, that's when he's a threat to the offense - he won't hesitate to hit the jugular. I just don't want him on my truck because he'll shock the battery stone dead if he can. Might not look like it, but the kid's packing some heavy duty power there."

"I've heard some stories," the pink lady said. "He really works as a retriever? With Ban?"

I uttered a low yowl at her use of my human's name. I was ignored.

"Has as far as I know," Gouzou-kun replied. "Apparently they've got quite the reputation around town."

Someone hit the roof of the cab, rebounded, and then - "Oh, very nice, Ginji-kun!"

"Thanks...Akabane-san..."

"You've been practicing your defensive, haven't you?" And the chase was on again. How they ever managed to remain upon a moving vehicle without ever falling off was beyond me. Maybe some primordial humans had had a trace of feline ancestral grace in them?

"So they _are_ good," the woman said, sounding thoughtful.

Gouzou-kun managed a chuckle. "I didn't say that. I said they've got a reputation."

The pink lady frowned. "But they've managed to defeat you and your team at least once before, haven't they?"

"Depends on what you consider defeat. Me, I'm just the driver. I call it a good night when I can collect my pay and go home without any band-aids to my wife and kids. See, my gas allowance is separate from our take as transporters. It's written into any contracts we accept. So no matter how you look at it, I still win because I get reimbursed for my expenses," Gouzou-kun explained.

Overhead, the thudding of dueling bodies was random across the surface of the truck and its trailer. I wondered how Ginji-kun was faring against both Kuroudo-kun and Lady Himiko. I doubted she would spare him much mercy, tolerant as she was of his foibles. She was kindhearted to a fault, but she had little patience for fools and had said as much in the past. Then again, if Kuroudo-kun was having as much fun as he sounded like he was, Lady Himiko would probably refrain from ganging up on the poor boy. A battle with Kuroudo-kun was enough to stir pity in the coldest of hearts.

"Himiko and Jackal, now, they're in it for the love of the game, just for differing reasons." Gouzou-kun continued to steer around the lanes of traffic, watching Ban-kun's car for any sudden movements, trying to anticipate his opponent's next move. "Himiko wants to prove something to herself, which isn't as off-road as it may sound. Lot of guys I know get into the business because they want to flex their muscles. Not all of them can make it. If you're in it to build a reputation, you've got to have time and talent. Mostly you've just got to have the endurance. Long hours, plenty of risk, and that's just counting the clients. If you're not good, the opposition won't take long to finish you off. Himiko may be young, but she has what it takes to survive _and_ thrive, as long as she doesn't get carried away with whatever's eating at her inside."

"I see," the woman said. "And what of the doctor? Why does he take part?"

"Jackal? He just wants to cause as much mayhem as he can," Gouzou-kun laughed wryly. "Don't let his maple-syrup manners snowball you. Himiko and I both like him and we all get along well, but he's a crazy son of a bitch, and if you ever meet this Midou up close and personal I'm sure he'd be glad to fill you in on all the bloody details. He and Jackal have been an item for some time now."

At that unflattering assessment of my human's character I growled quietly. Kuroudo-kun, as quirky as he could be, was not nearly as inhospitable as he was being made out, and, despite any insistence to the contrary from my sister Medusa-chan, would surely be most displeased by such a description given from his comrade to a total stranger.

The pink lady glanced at me. "You," she said, raising a brow. "Is this your cat, Maguruma-san? She fell on me a minute ago."

I narrowed my eyes at her. As if I'd decided to amuse myself by launching my sensitive body into a furry cannonball on top of her. I reminded myself then that she must have had quite the shock too, and my minor annoyance at her comment eased. This stranger was not an enemy – yet. Best to keep the bridges open until such time as an accurate judgment could be rendered.

Gouzou-kun spared me a brief look. "Bastet! Where'd you come from?" To the pink lady, he answered, "This is one of Jackal's and Midou's cats. Lady Bastet. How'd she get into my truck?"

"The doctor did say that they'd lost their pets this morning," the woman said, studying me as if debating my potential as a threat. "Perhaps she smelled his scent and tracked him here."

"Strange," Gouzou-kun said. "How'd she wind up all the way from their place to downtown? That's a ways to travel for a kitty cat..."

He raised his head and scowled. Pink lady and I did too, as we all realized what had suddenly gone wrong in the atmosphere:

It was frighteningly silent atop the truck.

_Gouzou-kun,_ I yowled. _What's going on? Where are Kuroudo-kun and Ginji-kun? Lady Himiko?_

"What's happening?" the woman in pink asked, her voice hushed in fear of an impending doom.

Gouzou-kun checked his video screen. No one was in the picture. We all must have thought the worst, that the battle had toppled to the streets below and brought about the terrible ruins of its players – but then the door in the back of the lorry was swinging open, and a petite windblown form bearing the trails of mystical perfumes was bursting inside the cab.

"That idiot! That psychotic fool of an _imbecile!_ I'm going to kill him myself - " Lady Himiko ranted to Gouzou-kun.

"What'd electro-boy do?"

"Not him, Jackal! He and Ginji are bouncing all over the place, I can't keep track! They're fighting on top of other people's cars now!"

"What!?" Gouzou-kun looked all around him, but couldn't find a trace of what Lady Himiko had spoken of. She pushed past the pink lady – not rude, just purposeful – and almost sat on me in her haste to take watch from the passenger seat. "Miss Bastet! What on earth is she doing here, Maguruma!?"

"Beats me. This whole trip has been nothing but one dinger after another."

_You can say that again, Gouzou-kun!_

A high-pitched and piercing screech rose above the surrounding road rage. Gouzou-kun assumed that it was a problem with his truck and reacted accordingly, but none of the gauges were indicating anything wrong. We all looked out the windows, but saw only the usual tantrum-pitching of irate drivers forced to maneuver around us, and then -

Lady Himiko gasped. "Oh my God, it's - "

I bolted from her side to the top of the dashboard. _Medusa-chan! _

_--_

TBC


	36. Meet The Parents part 5

Title: Meet The Parents (part 5)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #23 – "candy"

Rating: R (m/m, language)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor spoilers for the history between Ban and Maria Noches; also spoilers for the manga ending.

Notes: This veers into AU territory as it references events from the manga ending, but I alter things for my own purposes. I know that from this chapter on, things are going to seem a bit iffy re: Ban and his mom, but trust me, there is a reason for it and things aren't necessarily going to end the way they might seem from appearances. ;)  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Akabane's mom, however, is totally mine. And she won't hesitate to let you know it. XD  
Summary: Surprises of the relative kind are in store for both Ban and Akabane, and everybody gets a little eye candy – even dirty old women!

--

She was jumping from the back seat window to the front of the car and back again – oh what a surprise _that_ must have been for Ban-kun! - shrieking like the wails of the dead as she sought to alert us to the maelstrom ahead. A blur of black and yellow and green was all the warning we had before Kuroudo-kun and Ginji-kun crash-landed onto Ban-kun's car and ricocheted into the truck.

"Watch out!" Gouzou-kun bellowed, but it was too late. Ban-kun's car was solid but it could only take so much of a beating before its little engine that could decided it had had enough of such rough treatment. The car in front of us reared back and nicked the front of the truck's bumper; there was a loud BANG! and the blistering sound of steel being torn from its mountings, and then all we could see was a white flurry of vehicle struggling to stay in the lane. Horns flared anew and a horrible grinding CRUNCCCHHH snarled beneath us, and the next thing I knew Gouzou-kun and Lady Himiko were cursing at full volume while our transport began to wobble in a way no vehicle should ever behave while in motion.

The lorry's rear door popped open again and just as quickly closed in the wake of a billowing black shadow. A breathless Kuroudo-kun was belting himself into the pull-down seat and pulling the pink lady back along with him. "You might want to brace yourself, Midou-sama! Maguruma doesn't brake often but when he does it's a bit of a rough ride!"

Lady Himiko was trying in vain to pry me from the dashboard. I couldn't decide whether my howling, which by now matched Medusa-chan's in intensity, was more from stunned recognition as my thoughts crystallized in that glaring instant, or sheer terror at the likelihood of becoming a messy stain on the highway to hell.

Car horns were singing the siren song of the damned, accompanied by the symphonic smash of steel and glass from those unskilled enough to steer out of collisions in time. Above the din I somehow was able to make out a combination of Kuroudo-kun's startled "Miss Bastet!?", Ban-kun's "Jesus _Mein Gott_ on a pogo-sticking cracker crumb-bit creamsicle!" and from somewhere at the back of the trailer, Ginji-kun's "Ho-LEEE SHIII - !"

The cacophony flared to a roar and our world exploded into screaming metal. The truck jerked sharply from side to side and then spun sideways with a steaming squeal of rubber. Through the tilting windshield I managed to catch sight of Ban-kun's car. It was shooting all over the road, tagging cars in some kind of warped pinball game before finally spinning a double circle and hurtling right back into the truck's path.

Thankfully for Ban-kun's and Medusa-chan's sakes Gouzou-kun had retained enough control over his vehicle to stop it in time before those massive beast-feet steamrolled the 360 flat. He managed to pull the front end partially straight and the little car smacked into one side of the grill, but by then the momentum had spent most of itself, and both transports ground themselves to a halt through equal parts gravity and the applied excess of brakes worn to a nub.

Silence – exempted only by the wails of passing traffic horns - swamped everything like a choking fog. In the chaos Lady Himiko had managed to drag me loose from the dashboard and was huddled over in her seat with the belt nearly hanging her by her neck, squeezing me almost to a rope of bristling fur. I hated to do it, but I couldn't breathe with her stranglehold, so I scratched my way free of her arms and burrowed into the back of the cab, where Kuroudo-kun was similarly hunched over the pink lady to protect her from injury.

Both their hats had fallen askew from their being knocked around in the back, and Kuroudo-kun stirred beneath his wealth of dark hair. His eyes were wide with shock at the sight of me – and it had to have been a sight, for I knew I looked horridly out of place, what with my own fright – and he held out an arm, to which I ran crying gratefully.

"Bastet! Little one, where on earth – how in the name of Sekhmet did you find your way here?!" I deigned to answer him only with mewls of relief. Never again would Medusa-chan and I ever attempt such a foolhardy act, sneaking along to hide with our humans! Never! Never!

Medusa-chan! I wriggled loose and started up a new stream of ear-wrenching laments, hoping to call out my sister. Disturbingly, no vocals issued elsewhere, and I began to panic. What if - !

"Bastet, no, stay!" Kuroudo-kun tried to tighten his hold on me, but his other arm had gotten tangled in with the pink lady's seat belt while restraining her in the course of the accident, and he wasn't as nimble as he would have liked. I darted from his clutching glove to the front of the cab once more, dodging Gouzou-kun and Lady Himiko who were likewise recovering from the shock and no doubt as dismayed to find themselves confronted with a frightened furperson. I clawed at the windshield, still broadcasting my alarm, ducking under Gouzou-kun's arm when he tried to pull me away from the glass.

I was not to be deterred. I sprang from the dashboard towards the half-opened window on Lady Himiko's side, stretching and fumbling my way out the escape hatch before either of the humans up front could grab me. Descending the heights of Gouzou-kun's monster was harder than boarding it, but I made do, bounding from perch to limb to ground as fast as I dared without slipping.

Ban-kun's car was resting at a diagonal angle with the right front end pointed towards the face of the truck. Smoke was seeping out from underneath the engine hood and drifting in thin spirals from the wheels – one of which was now minus its tire, I realized. I charged for it heedless of the numerous dangers speeding past me; my human and my sister needed me! I was halfway there when the driver's side door flew open and a gnashing ball of fury almost mowed me down.

"_Goddammit you assholes, what the blue blazing fuck was that all about!"_ Ban-kun's face had the peculiar blend of paleness and color that could only come from a near-brush with death. He kept hurling verbal abuse upon the truck as he stormed over to it, banging on the doors. For the time being, he didn't appear to be any more hurt than that.

_Medusa-chan! Medusa-chan, where are you!?_

_BASTEHHHHHHHHHHHHHT!!_

The pitiful cry was buried under one of the front seats. I made a beeline for the opened car door and found my poor sister huddled-crammed under a nest of lint and various paper refuse stored beneath the passenger-side seat. She was shaking like a leaf in a breeze.

_Are you all right?!_

_I wanna go home! I wanna go home right NOW!_

_It's okay, it's okay. Everybody's safe, Ban-kun's safe and so is Kuroudo-kun._

_I never wanna go on another trip like this again! Never never ever!_

_I know. I know! You should have been with me in Gouzou-kun's truck. I got thrown off a shelf like a rag doll! And I fell on top of this strange woman – _I remembered then, the original intent behind our disaster of a mission. _Medusa-chan, listen! This woman, she's the one that Kuroudo-kun was hired to transport. She knows about Ban-kun and Ginji-kun being the Get Backers, she's Ban-kun's -_

The arguing outside made my already-bruised ears twitch. Would my humans be so stupid enough as to engage in a battle right in the middle of a wreck on a busy road? The short answer was yes, of course; humans had never been known for their sensible actions, and however intelligent ours might be they were still subject to human emotions caught up in a tornado of conflicting sensations.

I peered out of the car. Everyone was gathered between both vehicles, staring each other down with the ferocity of a wildfire. Ban-kun was screaming at Lady Himiko, who was shouting right back at him almost nose-to-nose. Gouzou-kun was yelling at the both of them in turn, berating Ban-kun for his actions and trying to get Lady Himiko to stand down. Kuroudo-kun was trying to explain the mess to Ban-kun and kept getting his head bitten off by almost everyone, while poor Ginji-kun – who had survived by using his odd electrical powers to glue himself to the back of the truck's trailer – was just standing there looking confused by all the commotion.

I could sympathize with him. My own mind was reeling from this exploit. All I wanted to do now was crawl under Kuroudo-kun's hat and stay hidden there for a week. But it wasn't over yet. Here came the pink lady, stepping carefully out of the truck.

The group fell quiet momentarily when her presence was noticed, and all eyes turned to her. She approached them slowly but steadily, faltering at times as if on poorly-shod feet, but I thought it was more from the casualties incurred by the emotional battlefield within her. That, and the stress of having been taken for the ride of her life – if not almost the afterlife too.

"That's what I was trying to tell you," Kuroudo-kun said to a suddenly white-faced Ban-kun as he gestured to the newcomer.

He looked her way only for a split second, so fixed was he on his main focus. "What's an extra rider got to do with your fuckup?"

"We wouldn't have tanked so badly if you hadn't gotten in our way like a jackass!" Lady Himiko snapped, rubbing at her bleeding arms. I feared I'd left some dreadful welts on her skin in my haste to escape.

"That's our job, honey, in case you forgot - "

"Don't call me 'honey', you arrogant - "

"Will you just stop it?" Gouzou-kun was getting almost as angry as they were. "That woman is what the whole thing was about! All we were told was to drive her around downtown and when you two caught up with us you'd know what to do. Nobody said anything about wrecking my truck!" He said this last with a baleful look not at Ban-kun but reserved for Kuroudo-kun.

"Hey, wait, that's what we got told for our job," Ginji-kun piped up. "Hevn-san told Ban-chan that we would know what to do with our target when we found it. But I don't know what that is!"

"I should think it's rather obvious," Kuroudo-kun said, oblivious to Gouzou-kun's wrath. "We were hired to bring something back that Ban-kun would be interested in retrieving." He smiled at everyone and swept a hand towards the pink lady, who had stopped several feet shy of them and was now watching with the frozen indecision of cornered prey. "Midou Ban-kun, it is my great pleasure to introduce to you - "

"I know who she is."

This time the silence hung in the air like an awkwardly unpleasant smell. The pink lady – Midou-sama, as Kuroudo-kun had called her previously, haltingly cleared her throat. "Hello, Ban."

Ban-kun had gone from flashfire-white to a sickly gray in less time than it took to blink an eye. He stared at his mother with an implacable expression. His throat muscles bobbed weakly as though they were a dying fish on a hook. Neither Medusa-chan nor I had ever before seen him this enraged.

He finally spoke, a whisper of death more chilling than any Kuroudo-kun had ever dealt. "Fine. I get it. You fucked up, but I get it. I've seen what you wanted to show me. Now you can take it back."

"I beg your pardon?" Kuroudo-kun frowned slightly.

"You. Heard. Me."

"Ban-chan?" Ginji-kun asked softly, sensing the fast-brewing storm about to open up hellfire all over everyone. Even at a distance I could feel as well the tension crackling, and I knew it wasn't just from Ginji-kun's unease.

"We're not supposed to 'take it back', as you put it," Kuroudo-kun said. "Indeed, we can't. That was the point of this transport. We were assured by a very reliable client that this would be of direct interest to you. Really, Ban-kun, I would have thought that you'd be more - "

"Grateful?" His interruption was a harsh crack of the whip. "Is that what you wanted to see?" Blue eyes burned a cold fire that would have fused Gouzou-kun's truck solid to the pavement.

Even Kuroudo-kun looked taken aback. He adjusted his hat and lightly cleared his throat. "I was going to say 'receptive,'" he demurred.

Ban-kun was about to rip another piece of flesh off him when the woman in the pink dress-suit spoke. "It's true, Ban. What the transporters said. I hired them to get me out of the City...and I arranged to hire you and your partner to find me."

That drew gasps and murmurs of consternation from them, except for Kuroudo-kun, who as I'd suspected didn't look terribly startled by the news. It made me wonder what that little girl in the white dress that he'd met in the alley had said to him.

Medusa-chan had crept out from her hiding spot and was cautiously peeking around my back. _What's going on?! Who's this woman who says she's Ban-kun's mother?!_

_I don't know, but he's not happy about it,_ I told her. The understatement of the century, surely. Ban-kun's skin was swiftly rising to a mottled swath of red-white fury. I expected him to open up with a new stream of violent invective, but the darkening storm clouds in his eyes hadn't broken yet. He continued to bite off his words in short puncturing icicles.

"What do you want."

Elder Midou was nearly as pale as Kuroudo-kun's dress shirt. But she held her ground. "I came to see you," she said quietly.

"Couldn't have just asked for a picture?" Ban-kun spread his arms wide. "Here I am. There. Now you can pay these clowns to ship you back where you came from."

"Ban, you - " Lady Himiko surely had had some scathing answer ready to fly, but Gouzou-kun's big hand on her shoulder was an effective silencer, preventing the other woman's response from being overridden.

"I'm not asking for your forgiveness," Miss Midou said, her voice surprisingly level for one the target of her only child's wrath. "I know...about the kind of life you've led since - "

"You don't know shit." Now Ban-kun was starting his rain of rage, slow and cold and hard but with the promise of fast escalating into a vicious pummeling. "You kick me around for the first few years of my life and then you split like a fart in the wind. Now you show up here wanting a kiss-and-cuddle make-up session so you can soothe whatever late maternal guilt is giving you premature wrinkles? _Fuck you!_" He spat the words as if ridding himself of a revolting taste in his mouth.

"Ban-kun!" Kuroudo-kun looked quite shocked. "That's no way to speak to a lady, and certainly not one who has come such a long way to meet you!"

"Well I sure as hell ain't gonna puke sunshine and flowers up her ass," Ban-kun snarled. "What the fuck did you think you were doing, Jackal, bringing her around when you knew goddamn well the history between us?"

"I was doing my job," Kuroudo-kun replied tartly, frowning now that he was on the receiving end of his lover's verbal barrage. "Transporters transport whatever they are contracted for, even if that cargo happens to be another person. You know that, Midou-kun," he said sternly, reverting to the less fondly familiar form of address he used whenever he was displeased by something Ban-kun did. "If it's any comfort, I had no idea who exactly the person in question was until I arrived at the pickup site - "

"Bullshit! You've dealt with those Babylon bastards long enough to know what kinds of mindfuckery they're capable of. There's no way you can convince me that you didn't know something was about to go down." Ban-kun snorted. "No wonder you were so accommodating to Hevn. You knew you'd get a shot at going up against me and Ginji."

"Doctor Jackal isn't responsible for this situation," Miss Midou interjected before Kuroudo-kun could offer a defense. "I've told you, Ban. I was the one who requested a transfer. I picked these agents based on the history concerning their team and yours that was given to me by the negotiators who arranged the contracts. I knew it was the only way our paths would cross the way I wanted them to."

"I'd say you accomplished a spectacular disaster, all right," Ban-kun growled, sweeping a hand at all the damage the chase had wrought. "For all the fat lot of good it did you. I'm no more interested in a relationship with you than you were in taking care of me, _Mother._"

_Now that's just mean,_ I growled, tail lashing as stiffly as a bottle-brush, to Medusa-chan. _Ban-kun isn't even giving her a chance to explain herself!_

_Why should he?_ my sister hissed. _From the sounds of it, she wasn't a very nice mother to him when he was little. I'd be pissed off too._

_Maybe, but that doesn't mean that she can't try to make amends for whatever she's done,_ I replied. _She obviously cared enough about Ban-kun to want to find him after so long. That has to mean something..._

At the moment, unfortunately, our human wasn't interested in the offer of reconciliation. He was too tightly wound with emotional pitfalls to see that bigger picture presented to him by fate. Miss Midou had taken a step backwards, her pretty face creased into a wince by her son's hostility. She must have expected it; the surprise she wore came not from the angry words themselves but by the degree of bitterness with which they were uttered.

"Ban," she tried again, clutching with one hand at the wrap she had draped over her shoulders, and the other hand gripping her purse. "I know that you're angry. I don't blame you. There's no excuse for what I did years ago. If – if you would let me, I could tell you why...why I acted the way I did..." She trailed off, looking as lost and helpless as a refugee at sea. "I wasn't – wasn't thinking well, I thought...I was afraid – I truly didn't mean to hurt you - "

Her flag of truce was abruptly snapped into pieces by Ban-kun's eruption. "Hurt me? _Hurt me?!_ No, noooooo! You never hurt me, _mother._ You only tried to bash my brains in every second the old hag wasn't around to stop you from doing it! You ever let dear old dad in on any of your psycho tantrums, or did you just figure it'd be kinder to pass me off as an accident after you made me disappear once and for all? I'd have been better off being flushed out when I was still just a microscopic parasite squatting in the middle of your guts, or didn't you have the balls to take care of your mistake when you had the opportunity?"

The poor woman looked even more miserable by the accusations. I had a sinking feeling that despite Ban-kun's penchant for exaggeration and drama, there was more than a kernel of truth to the ugliness he was leveling at her. "Ban, I'm sorry, I truly am - "

He stabbed a finger at her. "Don't! Don't you _dare_ give me some pathetic attempt at an apology now. I don't want it and don't need it. Not from you. There's nothing you can say that could ever make up for what you did, you sick, twisted, hateful bitch!"

"Ban!" Lady Himiko had one bottle out and ready to go, but again, Gouzou-kun was holding her back. To his credit though, he didn't look any happier about this turn of events than she – or anyone else – was.

"Midou Ban!" Kuroudo-kun's voice had lost its soothing comfort and taken on a harsher edge. "That's quite enough of that! I realize you're upset, but there's no need for such incivility! She's your blood, can you not at least respect that much?"

Ban-kun fried him with blue thunder ablaze. "I think you've done enough, okay, so why don't you just shut the fuck up, Akabane. You have no idea what you're talking about - "

"I know that right now you aren't acting anything like the man that I know," Kuroudo-kun shot back. "The Ban Midou I know would have given his opponent a chance at honorable defense before striking his victim down."

"Yeah, well, that's what monsters do best, isn't it? Strike without mercy. You taught me that, huh, mother?" Ban-kun turned to the now-softly weeping woman in pink. "Monsters, demons, they don't have an ounce of pity in their black hearts for anything or anyone. Why should I be any different? I've got my father's witch-blood in my veins. I'm just like him, a coldblooded snake of a killer. Hell, I'm shacked up with one just like me," he laughed sharply, jabbing a thumb at Kuroudo-kun. "The worst for the worst. Pretty fitting, and just like you said how I'd turn out, _mom._" He fairly sneered at her. "Bet you must be proud, knowing you were finally relieved of the responsibility of raising a demon-spawn."

"That is ENOUGH!"

The outburst rumbled loud enough to stun everyone into silence, even the ranting Ban-kun and crying Miss Midou. All eyes turned to Gouzou-kun, who had let go of Lady Himiko and was barging into the fray with all the intimidation his bulk could muster.

"You want to take care of your problem right now? Fine. Do it and get it over with." Gouzou-kun took hold of Miss Midou's arm – not ungently – and towed her closer to Ban-kun. He appeared to withdraw, but changed his mind and stiffened his spine, as if wanting to avoid showing weakness in the face of this new confrontation. If his back was any more rigid one could have carved granite from it, I thought.

"Go on," Gouzou-kun ordered. "You want revenge for what happened? Kill her. Right here. Right now."

Ginji-kun gasped audibly. Lady Himiko and Kuroudo-kun protested as one. "Maguruma - " they chorused.

"No buts," the big man cut them off. "He wants to pitch a screaming fit, he can do it on his own time. I'm sick of listening to his motormouth."

Ban-kun had recovered his momentum and was pointing his verbal torpedoes at Gouzou-kun now. "Listen, No-Brakes, you wanna go any time, either shut up and put up or get in your tank and piss off. Nobody asked you to butt in!"

"I'm not asking you. I'm _telling_ you." Gouzou-kun could sound remarkably like one of the biggest, meanest dogs alive when he was well and truly angered. His deep voice rumbled like an earthquake preparing to crush Ban-kun, and Medusa-chan and I almost skittered for the underside of the car seat again. "You hate this woman so much, do yourself a favor and off her right now so you can get on with your life, if her presence is that much of a thorn in your side."

Ban-kun's nostrils flared as he contemplated a bullheaded charge. But given that Gouzou-kun was constructed of formidable muscle, and Lady Himiko had now approached with her perfume bottle (flame, of course) held high, and Kuroudo-kun had extended his knives (bright red instead of blue-white), and Ginji-kun was crackling (literally) with tension, he realized that his odds weren't good. He lowered his stony glare from Gouzou-kun to a tearful Miss Midou.

I couldn't hear what she said next because her voice had faded almost completely. However, my time as a kitten on the busy streets had taught me a few useful survival skills, and I had learned to read human mouth movements with a decent record of accuracy. I translated for Medusa-chan:

"It's all right, Ban. I understand. I do. Go ahead and kill me, if that's what you want. I know I deserve it for the way I treated you. And...I know you don't want to hear it, but...I'm sorry. I owe you at least that much of an apology. I know that I can never begin to repair the damage I did. If my destruction is the only repayment you consider fitting, then I accept that as my due."

She seemed to sag in a drooping stem of pink, her head bowing in tired resignation. I couldn't see her face under the hat now, but I imagined that her eyes had closed; likely she had no wish to see her grisly fate coming.

Medusa-chan gaped at me. _He's not really gonna do it, is he, Bastet!?_

Worried for both sides, we waited for a heart-stopping eternity to see what Ban-kun's final answer would be. Lady Himiko looked torn between wanting to tear him apart or surrender to tears, a remembrance of grief long past dampening her eyes. Gouzou-kun still looked angry, but expectant, as if he held a close bet that no one else knew about. Ginji-kun was on the verge of sheer panic. Kuroudo-kun's face was pinched with clear disapproval, his usually-smiling lips turned down and thinned to irritation. He was tapping still-reddened scalpels against his thigh, as if impatient for Ban-kun to do or say something that would in his eyes necessitate a painful reminder of proper etiquette.

Somewhere off to the east sirens were bleating a call to arms. Several passerby had pulled over and were industriously snapping photographs from their car windows, for what reason only gods knew.

Ban-kun was rooted to the spot, still staring down Miss Midou. She slowly lifted her head, and her eyes were not closed. Her face was still streaked with wet lines, but she didn't buckle to outright sobs or hysterics. She simply stood...and waited.

Finally her son decided. He raised his right hand, the one he used most often in a fight. It was this same hand that was said to harbor the spirit of a great and deadly ancestor descended from the very heavens above. But no sooner had he begun the movement than he ended it, lowering that weapon and jamming his fist against his side.

"Get martyred on someone else's clock. You're not worth the effort," he growled.

Without waiting for anyone's response, Ban-kun suddenly whirled and stalked back towards the car. The closer he got, I realized that what I had taken for a furious glint in his face was the unmistakable shine of deep-seated pain. It must have taken a herculean effort for him to hold his composure in as long as he had, being confronted with the darkness of his past. Ban-kun _never_ cried.

_What do we do now?_ Medusa-chan asked quickly.

_Stay with Kuroudo-kun,_ I said. _Ban-kun's too upset right now to think straight. Besides, I think he needs to be alone for a while..._

We ran around the other side of the car to avoid crossing his path, not that it would have mattered much because he took little notice of our escape other than to mutter, "Damned crazy cats!" He got in his car and slammed the door shut, and a series of sputtering exhaust fumes coughed forth from the tailpipe as he sought to start the vehicle up.

Kuroudo-kun abruptly appeared in our line of sight. But instead of gathering us up to chastise or comfort us, he headed for the little Subaru with Ginji-kun hot on his heels. They were almost to the driver's side door when the car buzzed to life and shot off like a bullet, the squealing of burnt rubber and grinding of bare wheel on pavement making us all grimace.

Lady Himiko caught up beside Kuroudo-kun. "Will he...will Ban be...all right?" she asked, her voice wavering on the edge of a fathomless chasm.

"Ban-chan," Ginji-kun said softly, his voice a mournful quiver. "Why?"

"Not to be a party pooper, but we'd better scram before the cops get here," Gouzou-kun warned, approaching us with outstretched hands before the sirens could become too loud for comfort. I for one was glad of the chance to leave this chaotic scene, and after her particular adventure it took little persuasion to convince Medusa-chan of the wisdom of hasty retreat. We climbed into the big man's arms and allowed him to carry us back to the truck.

Reluctantly, Lady Himiko and Ginji-kun followed him. Miss Midou had already withdrawn to the rear of the cab, and sat curled in on herself like a drooping flower fading in the throes of late bloom. She was as silent as a ghost, though from time to time droplets of moisture would sprinkle across the fabric of her suit.

Kuroudo-kun said nothing. He stood, gazing into the distance at the vanishing car, until further prompting from Lady Himiko drew his attention. When he turned around, his displeasure had smoothed itself into a calm but somber thoughtfulness.

Ginji-kun, at Gouzou-kun's suggestion, was settling himself in the back next to Miss Midou. He started to put his hand on her shoulder, hesitated, and let it drop back into his lap, unsure if this was the right thing to do under the circumstances. He looked about ready to start crying himself, and his misery was compounded by the fact that he would have to ride with Kuroudo-kun nearby.

Yet that didn't stop him from braving one more question to his best friend's intimate companion. "Akabane-san – what's wrong with Ban-chan?"

Kuroudo-kun sat upon the floor across from the other two people in a flutter of black cloaking. Barely had the tails of his coat settled around his legs than Medusa-chan and I were crawling into his lap. He acknowledged us with idle caresses, his mind clearly elsewhere now. Tilting his hat until it sat just so upon his head, he looked up at Ginji-kun with a grave expression.

"Even the strongest of men suffer their fears."

--

A truth of physics was that in a battle, the larger vehicle would always win. Gouzou-kun's truck, upon closer inspection once we'd fled the scene of our crime, was found to have sustained markedly less damage than Ban-kun's car, despite the initial shock of the clash. The grill would need some work, and there were knife-marks scouring the entirety of the body where Kuroudo-kun and Ginji-kun had dueled, but overall the repairs would prove easy. After pulling out the shredded stumps of what had once been Ban-kun's left rear tire from under one of the axles, Gouzou-kun drove us back to our home at Kuroudo-kun's humble suggestion.

More problematic was the question of what to do with the pink lady, Miss Midou. Since she had been rejected by her son, and apparently was unable to return to wherever she'd come from, she was effectively stranded.

"It is rather late, Midou-sama," Kuroudo-kun said kindly while offering a hand for her to take, in order to step down from the truck safely. "May I suggest a motel nearby? It's quite reasonable in price, and it's close enough should Ban-kun change his mind..."

"I don't think he will," Miss Midou sighed. "But I appreciate the offer anyway. No, you needn't concern yourself," she said, waving away Gouzou-kun's hand when he started to invite her along for another ride. "You've done enough for me, and I thank you."

"Are you sure?" Lady Himiko was still caught between anger and worry; doubtless she would let Ban-kun have an earful the first chance she got. "The motel's not that far off of a drive."

Miss Midou shook her head. "I don't mind. I need the walk. If nothing else the exercise will help put me to sleep tonight." She sighed again.

"Hey, she could come stay with me," Ginji-kun said, looking hopeful. "I live right next door to Ban-chan!"

"I'm not sure that would be such a good idea right now, Ginji-kun," Kuroudo-kun said kindly.

"Yeah, Ginji," Lady Himiko said. "It's a nice thought, but you saw how crazy Ban was back there. Frankly, I'd worry about everyone's safety if she stayed here tonight and he found out about it."

"Oh." Ginji-kun offered up a meager fumble of a smile. "Sorry, Midou-san."

"It's all right. As the transporters said, I appreciate the offer," she told him quietly. "Please don't worry any more. I have money for a room." She looked away into the fading distance of burnished afternoon sun. "I suppose...I'll get by..."

Kuroudo-kun extracted a card from the inside breast pocket of his coat and handed it to her. "Please don't hesitate to call us if you should require anything. I would hate to think that your stay in Shinjuku should come at a complete loss. I personally would like to offer my services as an escort if you choose to pursue an extended tour..."

Miss Midou looked at the card for a while and then slowly put it inside her purse. "Thank you, Doctor." She nodded at Lady Himiko and Gouzou-kun. "Thank you. I trust that the negotiator I spoke with will take care of your fee?"

"Not a problem," Gouzou-kun assured her.

"It's only money," Kuroudo-kun said, to which Lady Himiko raised a brow, but said nothing. She and Ban-kun were more alike in that respect than either of them cared to admit, I thought.

"Please take care, Midou-sama," she said, stepping forward to offer her hand in a gesture of goodwill. "And...I'm sorry about – about Ban. For what it's worth," she said quietly.

"Me too," Ginji-kun piped up. "I know it's hard to believe, but Ban-chan's not really that awful, I swear, Midou-san. He's just...really...sensitive...about some things..."

Miss Midou took their hands and held them gratefully. For the first time since their meeting she bestowed a small smile, wobbling, but brave, upon her chauffeurs. "There's no need to apologize. His accusations are justified. I should have respected that, and I didn't." Her eyes lowered to the pavement. "I guess...I just wanted to see him for just one minute...to know that in spite of all he's been through, he's still unbowed by the world. I think that...that he'll be all right. His father would have been proud." She flicked her gaze suddenly back up to Lady Himiko. "And please...if we should meet again, I would like for you to call me Sabrina."

"Sabrina-san," Lady Himiko said softly as their hands slipped apart, and the elder woman nodded a last farewell to everyone before departing like a shadow at twilight.

"Your asshole partner is a dead man when I get my hands on him!" Lady Himiko fumed as loudly as she dared to Ginji-kun when Sabrina Midou was out of earshot.

"Himiko-san, really," Kuroudo-kun hushed. He very rarely used obscenities himself, and then only when he was upset to the point of losing his prized self-control, claiming that such debasement was beneath a gentleman of his standing. Medusa-chan had told me that Ban-kun said it was just that Kuroudo-kun was entirely too repressed and needed to pull the scalpel out of his ass.

"You saw for yourself how he behaved when she tried to talk to him, Akabane! Even if she is guilty of half the things he accused her of, she didn't make excuses or blame him for her actions. She was trying to apologize, for God's sake! What kind of a bastard won't let his own mother apologize for past wrongs?"

"An extremely upset and emotional one who isn't thinking clearly at the moment," Kuroudo-kun said, holding up one white-clad finger. "We all know how volatile Ban-kun's temper can be. The circumstances need not be compounded by additional hostilities."

"Well, he's gone too far this time," Lady Himiko snarled. "The next time our paths cross he's getting a faceful of corrosion perfume!"

"I'm with Himiko on that one," Gouzou-kun said. "If I'd ever dared speak to my mother that way, even if she was in the wrong, I'd still be spitting soap slivers from here to eternity."

"I can appreciate the sentiment, and I can assure you that I will be having words with Midou-kun myself at the earliest possible convenience," Kuroudo-kun said. "But I must ask that at least for now, you would refrain from interfering, however well-meaning your intentions may be." He looked toward a cringing Ginji-kun. "That includes you as well, Ginji-kun. I know of the delight you take in assisting others, and while I have no doubt of the sincerity of your actions, I believe that they would only prove counterproductive at this point in time. Once Ban-kun has had time to spend his anger, then we might consider how best to approach him."

"I dunno, Akabane-san. He was pretty mad when he left," Ginji-kun said. "I'd let you stay at my place if you want, in case he kicks you out when you go home...?"

_Woah,_ Medusa-chan muttered to me. _Ban-kun MUST be pissed if Ginji-kun's volunteering to risk life and limb!_

"I can go sleep at Kazu-chan's, or maybe Shido would let me bunk at Madoka-chan's place," Ginji-kun added hastily. We should have known that was coming.

"Thank you for the offer, but it won't be necessary," Kuroudo-kun said. "If Midou-kun thinks he can kick me out of my own dwelling over a silly misunderstanding, he's got quite a different thought coming." Four knives punctuated his statement with a swift hiss of air. "I assure you, I will see to it that he comes to his senses and listens to reason. Speaking of which..."

_Uh-oh,_ Medusa-chan said as we hunkered down in the back of the truck cab.

Kuroudo-kun strode towards us with grim determination. Before either of us could scoot to safety – not that we had much of anywhere to hide – he seized us both with firm hands and bundled us into his arms.

"You have both been very naughty today! You will _never _frighten us like that again, do you understand, Lady Bastet? Medusa?"

_But Kuroudo-kun,_ I whimpered, _we did it for you! You and Ban-kun! We were only trying to protect you two..._

"Oh no you don't," he said as coolly as he could manage. "Pleading innocence won't help you now. So help me Ast, if either of you two ever behaves that uncouthly again, I will declaw the both of you myself!"

This set us to mewling and wailing at once, as that specter of painful humiliation was feared by all cats far and wide. Kuroudo-kun would never stoop to such cruelty in spite of his threat, but both Medusa-chan and I knew it was important to press our case. There was nothing like a sound guilt-trip to remind our humans of their place and encourage them to pay proper homage, and sure enough, Kuroudo-kun crumbled like a cookie being sacrificed to Ginji-kun's hunger.

"My poor darlings! My precious ones! I'm so glad that you're all right." We took turns sharing in his kisses and nuzzles, as he sought to reassure us of his devotion to our care, while the other humans looked on with a combination of relief, amusement, and annoyance.

"Why do you put on such a show when we all know the worst that you'll do to them is lock up the catnip pouch for a week?" Lady Himiko sighed.

Kuroudo-kun looked up at her with an armful of purrs and smiled. "Ah, but they don't know that, Himiko-san. Discipline begins in the home. They have to learn early on who is the boss, as any good parent would teach by example."

Medusa-chan and I looked at each other. _Oh yeah?_ my sister growled. _We'll see who's the boss the next time you go screeching to Ban-kun after a mouse crawls up your pant leg with you still in it. I still owe you for kicking me out of bed at Maria's!_

--

TBC


	37. Meet The Parents part 6

Title: Meet The Parents (part 6)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #23 – "candy"

Rating: R (m/m, language)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor spoilers for the history between Ban and Maria Noches; also spoilers for the manga ending.

Notes: This veers into AU territory as it references events from the manga ending, but I alter things for my own purposes.  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Akabane's mom, however, is totally mine. And she won't hesitate to let you know it. XD  
Summary: Surprises of the relative kind are in store for both Ban and Akabane, and everybody gets a little eye candy – even dirty old women!

--

Unfortunately for Kuroudo-kun, if he thought that he could immediately corner his mate for a well-deserved tongue-lashing of the non-pleasurable variety, he himself had another thought coming. Ban-kun was nowhere in sight when we finally arrived back home, and there was no note to offer any possible explanation as to his current whereabouts.

Kuroudo-kun was visibly displeased by this, but aside from the scrunching of his brows he made no other comment on the situation. We were summarily freed to wander the confinement of our home once again, with the addition of fresh food to top off our dinner bowl. After such a hectic adventure, this was a most welcome respite. I never wanted to see another moving human vehicle again for a long, long time, and Medusa-chan wholeheartedly agreed with me on that count.

The late hours came and went, and still no Ban-kun. We entertained ourselves by checking up on (read: harassing, in my sister's case) Apep the betta fish and habitual grooming, while Kuroudo-kun attended to the day's mail of both paper and electronic types. Twice Kuroudo-kun picked up his phone and looked at it as if debating whether to place a call to his errant lover, but both times he set it back down without dialing any numbers. He did, however, later pick it up a third time to actually place a call out of professional courtesy, and warn Miss Hevn that she would soon be receiving a very irate message from Ban-kun – if she hadn't already.

Midnight arrived and with it, the noticeable absence of any Ban-kun tirades. By now we were all worried, and Kuroudo-kun was no longer exercising any restraint with his cell phone. He let the tone on the other end ring and ring, on occasion growling a soft "answer, damn you" in his ill-concealed impatience. But the only reply he received was the pickup of Ban-kun's voicemail, so he calmed his anxiety and spoke with his normal soothing intonation.

"Midou-kun, all I want to know is where you are and when you'll be coming home. Please call as soon as you get this message. I promise not to bore you with any lectures. I'm only concerned for your well-being. Though I understand that this may be of little comfort to you right now." He sighed. "Please, just call me or Ginji-kun and at least give one of us some idea of what to expect." He paused again, and then added before hanging up, "There is leftover pizza in the refrigerator if you're hungry when you come back."

Neither Medusa-chan nor I missed the little stumble in his voice as he spoke the word 'when.' Truth be told, Ban-kun would not return that night – or the next one, or the next.

In the end our human stayed missing for a little over a week. The rippling effect of his disappearance was made more evident by the infrequent visits around town from his mother, who put in one tentative trip to the Honky Tonk. To her surprise (and ours), she was greeted with civility by everyone in spite of the stories surrounding her notorious arrival. Even Paul-kun the Food Bringer, who was not known for tolerating fools so easily, kept himself to himself and responded with his polite cryptic manner. He seemed to know her from a time long past and was visibly startled when she arrived.

We soon figured out that although Sabrina Midou had decided to cut her losses, a part of her still wanted to learn more about the man she had once called her son, and the only way to do so was to speak to the people in his orbit.

The more I studied her, the more convinced I became that whatever had happened to cause the bad blood between her and Ban-kun, it was not entirely her fault, and that what she had done she deeply regretted. She possessed the same quiet watchfulness as her son, and the same iron will when it came to facing up to one's challenges. Though she was obviously uneasy being in the presence of what she thought were Ban-kun's nearest and dearest friends (oh how amusing Shido-kun would have found that notion!) given her probable reputation, not once did she flinch away from their curiosity and stares. She conducted herself with a similar cool grace as did Kuroudo-kun, doing her best to keep up an image of respectability and professionalism, if for no other reason than to take scant comfort in the dignity it gave her.

"Will you be in town long, Sabrina-san?" Kazuki-kun the threadmaster asked once.

"I'm not sure," came the hesitant answer. "I don't think that...that Ban would want me around his territory. It has been very enlightening though, talking to you all, and I'm pleased that I had this opportunity to take in one last remembrance of my mother-in-law's famous coffee." She nodded a sad smile at Paul-kun. "You do her and my Kaiser proud indeed, Wan-san."

"That's Paul to you, Sabrina," the headmaster responded gruffly. "What's past is past and I don't see any point in taking up old grudges."

At one point Medusa-chan and I had noticed the presence of an otherworldly vapor, whom we came to recognize as Ban-kun's deceased father. He never said a word or took any action, merely stood in place and looked upon his wife with bittersweet longing. I had a hunch that not only did he know why the family rift had occurred, but what had caused it, and that he felt he had his own share of blame to bear. When Sabrina rose from her seat to leave, der Kaiser, as he was known to most of the patrons, touched his fingers to his lips and then brushed those across the side of her cheek in parting. She could not have known it was him or that he was even there, but she was aware enough of a sensation she could not quite put name to, for she gave a little shiver and glanced, somewhat nervously, at the air conditioning unit, as if not sure what to think of the sudden whisper that had ghosted over her skin.

"She's okay, I guess, for having spawned a snake bastard," Shido-kun was heard to remark. "What's he pissed over, she accidentally give him a bottle of spoiled milk when he was a baby?"

"Mind yourself," Paul-kun said. "It goes a little deeper than that, and I'm not at liberty to describe it." He'd heard all about Ban-kun's explosion the day of the mission courtesy of Lady Himiko, who made a point of telling anyone and everyone that Ban-kun had an imminent date with a bottle of her strongest perfume, depending on the level of suffering that she wished to inflict upon him on any given day.

Unlike his cohort, Kuroudo-kun was much more private with his opinion. He was, however, spending an increasing amount of time on the road, and frequently returned home with bloodied clothing. Though I sensed that he was still keeping true to the promise he'd once made Ban-kun, I also knew that it hadn't been particularly easy for him lately.

Nor was it any casual acceptance for us. Medusa-chan was forever at Kuroudo-kun's feet, demanding answers, but he had none to give either her or me. In wishful thinking, she even permitted Apep a truce, but this too was wearing as thin on her as Kuroudo-kun's restraint was on him. I kept watch every day and night at the windows, but only normal traffic came and went, without a sign of our human.

When he finally did show up it was with a surprisingly minimal fuss, and the majority of that came from us and Kuroudo-kun. Ban-kun walked into the apartment in the middle of dinner, grunted a noncommittal and incoherent acknowledgment of Kuroudo-kun's presence, and gave Medusa-chan and I only the barest of chin-scratches before promptly adjourning to the shower. To be fair, I couldn't entirely blame him for his rush – he was clean enough, but his shirt reeked of stale cigarette smoke and old German lager.

The shower, however, concluded with Ban-kun's immediate retirement to bed, in spite of Kuroudo-kun's offer of grilled steaks. At first we figured that he was just tired after his temporary self-exile and needed to catch up on his rest, but it quickly became clear that a cold snap in relations had been declared. Ban-kun kept normal hours as he had done before, but he wouldn't speak to anybody.

This environmental freeze lasted another week before Kuroudo-kun's thinning patience wore out. Ban-kun stalked past the couch one afternoon, ignoring his mate's friendly greeting, and this snub was enough to garner the first volley.

Kuroudo-kun set aside his book and frowned. "Isn't it about time you stopped giving me the silent treatment? Truly, I don't understand what you've upset yourself over. You need to look at the bigger picture, Midou-kun."

Ban-kun was in the kitchen now, and he hoisted a healthy swig of milk from the carton before finally deigning to reply. "Yes, let's look at that bigger picture, shall we? Four major car repairs in two months. Two months! This'll be number five thanks to you - "

"Four," Kuroudo-kun corrected smoothly. "The bender at that intersection was barely a smudge, and the gentleman did apologize for it - "

"Don't interrupt. I said it was five." Ban-kun started ticking off points on his fingers as the dam broke. "You trash my car. You give me the second-biggest shock of my life by bringing that bi - "

"Ban-kun," Kuroudo-kun said warningly. "Language, please."

" - by bringing _her_ back, and for what? So she can tell me to my face that I'm a demonic hellspawn again? Trust me, I've heard every single variant of that there is in the book and some that aren't. I don't need a repeat of it."

"If you had bothered to let her explain, I doubt it would have turned out that way," Kuroudo-kun said. "I saw for myself. She was genuinely upset for the way she treated you and she tried to apologize."

"Apologies don't even begin to make up for it," Ban-kun snapped. "You're lucky I'm even considering yours."

"No, but they can be a start," Kuroudo-kun said coolly. "Isn't the road to heaven paved with good intentions?"

"So's the road to hell."

Kuroudo-kun's shoulders slouched, but only for a moment. He sighed. "Ban-kun. Will you at least hear her out? Just once? One chance, that's all she's asking. Is that so much for you to grant?"

"She had her chance twenty-some years ago. She blew it. Why should I put any effort into something when I already know how it's going to end?"

"You don't know that for certain - "

"Oh yes I do. I'm the one who grew up with it, remember? I think that grants me considerably more authority on the subject than you, _Doctor."_ Ban-kun could be quite devastating with his sarcasm when he chose, a fact not lost on his lover.

Kuroudo-kun rose from the couch and entered the kitchen. "I don't have to be a trained psychologist to see what's going on, Ban-kun. You're not dealing with your problems in a constructive manner."

"And you do? Jackal, if I thought for one second that carving my seal into the back of every half-wit who ever crossed me would earn me some mystical brownie points, I'd have racked up bigger skull-piles than you ever could dream of in your career."

Kuroudo-kun's eyes flashed, but he remained calm. "This isn't about me. It's about you. Your stubborn refusal to take this seriously. You've been on the run so long from those who've hunted you mercilessly. Aren't you tired of running?"

Ban-kun tossed aside the sandwich he was putting together and threw up his hands. "What the hell do you think? Of course I'm tired of running! I'm sick of always looking one eye over my back, always trying to guess who's going to be the one to stick a knife in it when I least expect it. But that's the way my life is and that's how the system goes, I've learned. No use fighting it."

"You're not a coward, Ban-kun. Only cowards give up."

That got a more enthusiastic response. Ban-kun spun and charged him, seizing Kuroudo-kun's shoulders in his hands and slamming him up against the wall. "You ever grow up having people throw shit at you, call you filthy names, curse your very existence?! You have no idea what it's like!"

"As a matter of fact, yes, actually, I do," Kuroudo-kun snapped, wresting free and throwing Ban-kun's grip off. He was angry now. "The old people in the marketplace, when my mother would take me with her, they cast their stones at us and made warding signs behind my back everywhere we went. The local physicians – and I use that term very lightly, I assure you – they refused to treat her when she was ill because they considered her unclean, a plague upon the village. I learned what shunning was at an early age when none of the other children would let me come near them, let alone join their play."

Purple eyes were dark with suppressed fury, but also deep-seated sorrow. "It's their problem, Ban-kun. Not yours. Do you honestly think that I would have permitted her anywhere near you if I had believed for one minute that she posed a genuine danger to you? I trust my instincts for a reason. If I had sensed so much as an ounce of animosity on her part she never even would have lived to set foot inside Maguruma's truck."

Kuroudo-kun's voice softened. "If this woman cannot see in you the honor and strength I know you to have, then she is the one at fault. Not you. If after meeting her you could offer proof that she still cared nothing for you, then I would believe that she means the same to you. But she humbled herself for you, and you spared her when it would have been so easy to deliver the final blow. So I cannot help but feel that there is something there, still a thread of a bond that neither of you wishes to completely sever."

Ban-kun's jaw clenched as he formulated an answer. "You know what? You're right. I can still get something out of this mess. I can turn around and sue that harpy – excuse me, that _woman_ – for child abuse and rack up all the dough I can bleed her for. Then for once I'll be set financially and never have to worry about Ginji pissing away another retainer fee for a stupid rice ball accident."

"Ban-chan?" came a meek voice from the hallway.

We looked around to see the culprit of said hospitalization materialize sheepishly. "Sorry, Akabane-san. But the door was unlocked and I heard Ban-chan in here and I thought we could go get ice cream..." If this was what a kicked puppy could have looked like, it would have worn Ginji-kun's expression.

There was an awkward silence that lasted all of two seconds before Ban-kun regained momentum. He pointed a finger at his partner. "And don't think that I don't know what's been going on just because I wasn't here. Watch it, Ginji, or you'll end up with a knife in your back just as sure as I almost had one in mine, and I don't mean from Jackal here. You're nuts about keeping some of the company you do."

"But Ban-chan, she's not - "

Kuroudo-kun cut in sharply, scalpels and all. "Despite what you might think, Ginji-kun is not your personal punching bag. If you want a target to work off your frustrations on, pick on someone your own size."

For a second Ban-kun looked as though he might take him up on that offer, but time and prudence had given him a cooler head, and he dismissed Kuroudo-kun with a snort of disgust and turned back. "I'm not interested in fighting with either of you two idiots. I'm going out."

Kuroudo-kun blocked his path to the front door. "Where?"

"None of your business," Ban-kun snapped.

Four scalpels pointed at his throat made it Kuroudo-kun's business. "You are testing the remnants of my good graces right now, Midou. You pitch the most horrendous fit of any tantrum I've ever seen in public and then disappear to parts unknown for the better half of two weeks without even bothering to inform anyone of your plans. Meanwhile Ginji-kun and I have been worried sick over you not knowing what you're doing or if anything's happened to you! The least you could have done was pick up your phone and tell us when you intended to come home. When you are here you're not even fully present, you're only passing through and barely say a word, and whatever does come out is hardly fit for civil company's ears."

One scalpel lightly nicked the point of Ban-kun's Adam's apple, not enough to draw blood, but enough to convey Kuroudo-kun's displeasure through a visible scratch. "Now, regardless of what you decide concerning your mother, either you find a more appropriate way to channel that attitude of yours, or I will personally introduce you to a very special form of physical 'therapy.' Do I make myself clear?"

_Ban-kun better not press his luck,_ Medusa-chan said to me while we watched from beneath the dining table. I wasn't about to argue. One did not toy with Kuroudo-kun when my human was deadly serious.

Ban-kun seemed to realize the gravity of his predicament, because he didn't struggle further. He was hauling in his fangs, but he wasn't about to admit complete defeat. He let loose a loud sigh of exasperated concession. "If it's any consolation to your minds, I'm going down to the Honky Tonk. Alone," he stressed to Ginji when the other would have offered to accompany him. "I'm going to get as plastered as much as this - " he dug his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a few crumpled bills - "and Paul will allow me. I probably won't be back in time for dinner but I will be home before midnight, maybe sooner if he decides to kick me out before closing. That satisfactory enough for you?"

Judging by Kuroudo-kun's glower it wasn't, but his claws relented and he stood aside after a few seconds of thought. Ban-kun started to open the door when his lover spoke again, as lethal as he'd ever been.

"On your word, Midou-kun. You will be back here when that clock reads precisely twelve. If you aren't, you won't like what I'll do when I come looking for you," Kuroudo-kun warned.

Ban-kun let that sink in and then issued a deathly proclamation of his own. "Be careful, Jackal." With that, he slapped the door shut in his wake.

Ginji-kun hurried to smooth the tense misery over, as was his natural wont. "I'm really sorry, Akabane-san, I didn't mean to make things worse! I just thought that - "

Kuroudo-kun held up a hand. He wasn't smiling, but neither did he look as fierce as he had moments ago. "I don't think that it's you Ban-kun is so angry at, Ginji-kun. I think he's more angry with himself."

"Himself? But why?"

Kuroudo-kun sighed. "I was hoping you could tell me, Ginji-kun."

"I don't know. Ban-chan...he kind of keeps himself to himself. He doesn't like to tell anyone what he's thinking."

"Don't you think that's part of the problem, then?"

Ginji-kun started to deny this, then changed his mind as they drifted towards the table to sit. "Probably," he admitted as I twined around his legs. "Paul's always saying that it's his pride that gets the best of him."

"Pride is not necessarily the issue here, Ginji-kun. I daresay it is more about self-preservation than it is reputation."

"How so?"

"When you were Raitei, did you not withhold your true feelings from everyone? Even as you raged destruction all about you, did you not also experience a barren and bitter loneliness, and wish that you could explain the conflict inside yourself to someone who would understand?"

Ginji-kun stared at him. "Yeah. That's it, Akabane-san. That's exactly what I felt. How'd you know?"

Kuroudo-kun neatly bypassed the question and continued. "Wounds are weakness, and there is no greater weakness than the faltering strength of one's own heart. You could not risk revealing the heart inside yourself as Raitei, for to do so would have been to invite destruction from your enemies."

"I had to be strong to protect everybody," Ginji-kun agreed, and his eyes teared up. "But I _hated_ it, Akabane-san! I ended up hurting more people than I protected! That's why I gave up being the ruler of Mugenjou. I couldn't be responsible for any more suffering."

Kuroudo-kun tilted his head as he folded his hands in thought. "I still do not understand the mysteries of these emotions that you insist on wallowing so openly in. But, perhaps, I think that I come closer to some sort of enlightenment with each passing day that we have known each other."

"What does emotion have to do with Ban-chan and Sa - his...mother?"

"You know that they did not have a good relationship while he was a boy, yes?" When Ginji-kun nodded, Kuroudo-kun went on. "He's internalized everything he was told as a child about being a demon, a monster. To anyone else's eyes, he may act as though he does not believe in any of this past, but deep down inside, I think that some of it has remained with him in spite of his attempts to scrub it from memory."

"He gets really sad when he thinks about Himiko-chan's brother. He's always telling me that it was his fault that he died, even though there was nothing he could do to prevent it. And he always says to me that no matter what I did when I was Raitei that I'm not like him, like he's somehow worse than that." Ginji-kun scowled. "But I don't believe that. Anybody really that bad wouldn't have said what he did to me, because no one else would have cared whether I lived or died. Except for Kazu-chan and Shido and Makubex and the others I stayed with of course," Ginji-kun hastened to add in a remorseful tone, as if fearing that these omissions might slight his friends' esteem and earn him a place in the lowest pits.

"Of course," Kuroudo-kun told him sympathetically.

"When I followed Ban-chan out of Mugenjou, he told me 'you dumb eel, why do you keep hanging around me when you know it's not good for you?' But that was just his cover. If he'd really wanted me to go away I'd have known, and he'd have made it happen."

"Ban-kun's anger towards his mother is very real, and I won't say that it's wholly unwarranted. But on some level, he also longs to salvage what he can of their relationship. But he fears that the past will overwhelm him and he'll destroy any chance of such, and in doing so, he will prove her and the rest of his accusers right."

"You're saying that...Ban-chan feels...guilty?"

"A part of him, yes. He doesn't understand why he should feel mercy for the person who was supposed to care for him and didn't."

"But he doesn't seem to feel that way about his dad. How come?"

"Sometimes, Ginji-kun, people build up others in their minds to be ideals that they cannot possibly live up to in reality. That is why emotion can be so irrational and a hindrance in battle. The phrase 'rose-colored glasses' came into being because those flush in the throes of romance tend to ignore or excuse their lover's less pleasing traits."

"You're in love," Ginji-kun rather slyly pointed out. Medusa-chan and I bobbed our heads in agreement.

"Am I, Ginji-kun?"

"You're with Ban-chan, aren't you?"

"That is different. We took time to get to know each other before we chose to combine our lives intimately. I hold no illusions about his faults. Nor does he pretend that I am without sin. We acknowledge these failings in one another, but we do not permit them to come between us and the greater strength that we share."

"You're in love," Ginji-kun declared with a firm smirk.

Kuroudo-kun smiled semi-defeat. "Whatever you say, Ginji-kun. But back to Ban-kun," he said with a slight of authority in his voice, the way he did whenever someone had brought up a topic he was not inclined to discuss. "Evidently he retained a more favorable opinion of his father, but because he grew up with little of either parent's influence he uses his memories to sustain him in his darker hours. He remembers his father, though a man in absentia, as caring for him; his mother, as wishing he were gone or dead. Do you not see how this could create a paradox in a child's mind when one is brought up with the view that one's parents possess godlike control? Who else but a parent has such power over you when you are still a dependent, impressionable child?"

"Ohh," Ginji-kun whispered, now having attained the understanding that he sought. "He's _scared_ of her. He thinks if he takes the risk in trusting her, she'll hurt him all over again."

"Precisely. And you know as well as I do that Ban-kun does not suffer fools gladly. He would flay himself alive if he took that gamble and it backfired upon him."

"But she didn't seem like that to me when I met her, Akabane-san. She seemed like a friendly enough person. She said she wanted to meet Ban-chan and see what he was like."

"And appearances can be quite deceiving, lest you forget," Kuroudo-kun reminded him in gentle warning. "But in this case I agree with you, Ginji-kun. I didn't sense any sort of malignant intent from her either, when I was helping to transport her, and I pride myself on accurately assessing someone's character."

"Then how can we get her and Ban-chan together again so that they can make up for all the time they've lost?" Ginji-kun furrowed his brow in thought. "I know! Let's trap them somewhere where they can't leave easily, so they'll have to talk to each other."

"No, no, Ginji-kun," Kuroudo-kun shook his head. "This cannot be forced, or it will never work. Ban-kun has to initiate contact of his own will. Whether or not to pursue any sort of relationship with her is his choice alone."

They fell silent, their bowed heads painting a vivid and interesting illustration of their contrasting personalities: Kuroudo-kun, so dark and exotic; Ginji-kun, so bright and golden as the sun. For whatever animosities lay between them, they had cobbled a functioning truce over time, and there were moments when they almost might have been mistaken for close friends.

Finally Kuroudo-kun looked up with a thoughtful quirk of his lips. "However...there is no rule that says we are not allowed to give fate a gentle nudge in the direction we wish it to go," he said slowly.

Ginji-kun blinked. "Oh yeah? You have an idea, Akabane-san?"

Kuroudo-kun's smile delved into enigmatic territory. "I wonder, Ginji-kun...do those wondrous powers of yours extend to the boundaries outside Mugenjou as well...?"

--

Another week passed, still in uneasy peace but with a lessening of the frigidity of the previous week's. Having assessed his situation as it presently stood and considering his options, and having taken his mate's ultimatum to heart, Ban-kun did not warm straight away but he did thaw somewhat in his dealings. He was more civil in responding to anything Kuroudo-kun said to him that required an answer, and he was cautiously receptive to offers of companionship from both Kuroudo-kun and Ginji-kun. He even unbent enough to allow Medusa-chan and I roaming rights to the bedroom once more, and did not push us away when we crowded him for attention at any hour of day or night.

In return, we did our best to reassure him that we considered him a valuable part of our family, demon-witch or not, and that only if he took inspiration from our wisdom would he be able to find the resolution that so maddeningly eluded him. Not that we expected him to pick up on it right away – humans were notoriously slow when it came to grasping feline advice, the poor things.

While Ban-kun was working on untangling his personal conflict, Kuroudo-kun was plotting subterfuge of his own. He entered the living room one day with subdued demeanor and submissive posture, gloveless hands clasped chastely in front of him as he slowly approached his mate. By all appearances, he gave the impression of a jackal with his tail tucked firmly between his legs, the very picture of sincere penitence.

_His eyes ruin it though,_ I said to Medusa-chan while we sunned ourselves by the window. _Kuroudo-kun never was good at keeping that spark under wraps. He's too knowing. He just can't pull off the guile the way that Ginji-kun can._

_Wonder if Ban-kun will see past it?_ Medusa-chan said.

We were about to find out. Ban-kun was sprawled on the couch working on some notes. When he sensed an extra presence he looked up.

"Midou-kun?"

"Mm?"

"Could we talk for a moment, please?"

Ban-kun put down his notes but kept the pen to chew on. "Shoot."

"I owe you an apology."

Wariness instantly threw up the blue screens. "For what?"

"For the last mission we shared together." Kuroudo-kun smiled contrition at him. "I've been thinking. You were right. It was wrong of me to interfere with your life like that. I only wanted to bring you pleasure from a successful accomplishment, not dredge up painful memories of the past. It was never my intention to cause you harm in that manner." He knelt on the couch and kissed Ban-kun gently on the lips. "Will you forgive me, my dearest?"

Ban-kun sighed, relaxing his defenses. "I know. I know you meant well, and...I guess I...I can appreciate that," he said quietly. "It's just..." He trailed off, his eyes darkening not with anger but gloom. "Seeing her reminds me of how precarious my position in the world is. I almost didn't make it because of her..."

"But you did. Because you are strong." Kuroudo-kun's eyes rested adoringly on him.

"Took a whole helluva lot more than strength for me to get where I am. And that's damned little, you've got to admit," Ban-kun said, letting a hand ease onto his mate's shoulder. "Thing is, Jackal...I don't know if I called this one right or not," he admitted solemnly for the first time. "When Ginji and I had that whole ogre-battle deal I thought I'd come to terms with it then, but this..." He twisted a helpless hand in the air. "It just brings back too much all at once. I mean, what's she want from me? What else could she want by coming back here, now, just to confront me face to face again? I'll be honest, Akabane, I thought I was going to go through with it the first time I had that opportunity, but then Mugenjou rebooted itself after computer boy and that nutter kid with the stuffed rabbit did their tinkerings, and it just seemed kind of pointless after that." He shrugged. "More than that, it was like a sign that maybe I better leave well enough alone, maybe I could pull at fate's strings only just so much before something snapped and I completely hosed the entire system."

"Ah, but that depends on how you manipulate those strings," Kuroudo-kun said, rubbing Ban-kun's back. "One does not tear aimlessly at the strings of a pipa to produce the desired melody, after all." He smiled. "And Hakase-san is not a 'nutter'. She's a perfectly pleasant and respectable colleague."

Ban-kun looked at him. "She's a nutter," he repeated, though not with any sting to the words. "She's Brain Trust, isn't she?"

_Who cares,_ Medusa-chan said, and stuck one of her feet into my face. _Move over, Bastet. I want some sun too._

_Me? You're the one hogging it all,_ I said. But I scooted over anyway. As she'd once explained it, her fur was darker than mine, therefore she required more sun time – perhaps she was not as efficient in utilizing this stored energy as lighter-colored cats. As I was not a scientist, I remained unable to discern whether this was fact or simple greed on my sister's part. She liked to boast that she had learned everything she knew from Ban-kun, and that included certain of her habits.

"Well, I can't say that for certain, but I know she has had contact with them. But I assure you, it's of no consequence to us," Kuroudo-kun soothed. "She was never a part of the cabal that you and I have had dealings with in the past, I promise."

"If you say so," Ban-kun said, but the flat suspicion in his eyes told otherwise.

Kuroudo-kun's smile softened once more. He leaned closer and kissed his lover. "You still haven't answered my question, though."

"What question?"

"Whether you've forgiven me my trespass into your personal affairs." Kuroudo-kun climbed onto Ban-kun's lap, straddling him while he wound his arms around his mate's shoulders. "I would be most disappointed if you didn't at least tell me that you've missed me as much as I have you these past days."

"It has been kinda cold in bed for a while," Ban-kun confessed, stroking the other man's back.

Kuroudo-kun's smile deepened. He nuzzled Ban-kun's face. "I would even let you take me back to Lady Noches' home and make love to me most noisily under her roof, if you so desired."

Ban-kun's eyes flickered sapphire warmth for the first time since their falling-out. "I wasn't talking about sex," he said quietly.

Tenderness colored Kuroudo-kun's eyes to a beautiful violet. He engulfed Ban-kun in a firm embrace. "Oh, Midou-kun. I never wanted to disrupt our lives like this. I would sooner cut out my own heart than forsake the oath I swore to you. If I had sensed any hostile intent from Sabrina-san, I would never even have consented to take on the transport."

"I know." Ban-kun pressed him close, tightly, his way of admitting the truth of that private pain that he'd carried for so long, and how thankful he was at last to have someone who could ease that burden by sharing it with him. "I was a shit to you and to Ginji, only because I couldn't believe that either of you would deliberately attack me at my weakest point. But I think...a part of me must have. I'm not proud of that."

Kuroudo-kun remained undaunted by his mate's depression. "Wasn't it you who taught me that the mentality of the fighter is what determines the outcome of a struggle?" When Ban-kun looked up at him, he elaborated. "Skepticism is a natural part of the human condition, Ban-kun, and a certain amount of it is healthy when utilized properly. Isn't that what you've been trying to teach Ginji-kun at times? You were mistreated as a child. No one could fault you for reacting as violently as you did, because you believed even on a subconscious level that you were in danger. When a living being feels threatened, it will fight or it will retreat to the best of its capabilities. Never doubt your instincts, my beloved. You interpreted our actions as a threat, and you responded as you felt was necessary. Even if it was overkill, any sensible person would have done the same."

Ban-kun seemed a little more reassured by this, but per his nature he wasn't yet ready to wholly embrace it. "Maybe. But I didn't need to take it out on you guys too. Funny how I always seem to forget what I have to constantly remind Ginji of – that facing a tough blow doesn't mean you always have to do it alone." He shrugged. "I'm just so used to it...I can't help that raw reaction as much as my better judgment would prefer..."

"That is why you have us," Kuroudo-kun said. "I will be your strength, your pillar, your sword in times of strife. And when I cannot be there, you will have Ginji-kun to serve as your shield."

"That's the problem, Kuroudo. People aren't weapons, not things. They're _people._ People get hurt when they pull crap like that on each other. My grandma knew it and that's why she told me to wise up before it was my time. That's what was eating Ginji so badly before he came to his senses and left that dump he called home in Mugenjou. Living on like that would have killed him, one way or another." He ruffled Kuroudo-kun's hair. "That's why I'm always on your case to think things through before you take up a fight. Senseless fighting doesn't do anybody any good."

"But people can only handle so much before it destroys them," Kuroudo-kun said softly. "Protecting oneself isn't a sin, Ban-kun. And the protection of those valuable to one, is that not also an extension of your retrieval service's philosophy to preserve that which is most important? 'Get it back if it was taken' – those are the very words you live by, no?"

"Point taken," Ban-kun reluctantly admitted. "I still maintain that the weapon analogy is damaging in itself. Don't forget, I grew up studying this stuff." He sank into the cushions and looked up at the ceiling. "God, I still don't know what to do about her – about - " he hesitated - "Sabrina." Saying the woman's name aloud had a kind of purgative effect on him; now that those thorny barriers had been breached, they were proving easier to tumble than any of us had thought. "The day she walked out of my life was the day she became dead to me, and I've never given her any other thought than that. Then I find out years later that not only is she alive and well, she's living in Babylon bloody City and I've just been contracted to meet with her depending on the outcome of a rigged fight to the death with my best friend. And by her own admission at that, after she goes and hires the biggest pains in the ass in the world to do the transporting! Second chance or no second chance, how do you deal with a fortune cookie like that?" he asked semi-rhetorically. "No matter how you look at fate, my life is one big bowl of whipped-nuts fruitcake insanity. I'd be lying if I said it didn't matter that much to me."

"Then why - "

"Did I take her maiden name as my own?" Ban-kun thought for a minute. "It was more my grandmother's insistence than mine. I needed an alias to outfox the witch hunters that were chasing me all over Germany, so when she shipped me off to Maria's here she had the paperwork fixed to reflect that. You blend in better when your name comes from the same society that you're trying to integrate into." He paused again. "Over time...it became less about her and more about me making my own path, so I kept it even though I could've changed it if I'd wanted to. Now...maybe it does indicate something of my past that I want to hang on to, if only for the memories. For better or for worse, it's a part of me. I could ditch it...but this little nagging thought in my head says I wouldn't be me if I did." He looked up at his lover with a little frown. "That make any sense?"

Kuroudo-kun regarded him with patient appraisal. "What do you want to do, Ban-kun? Not what you think you should do. What do your instincts tell you."

He blew a gust of air up at the ceiling as he draped his head on the back of the couch. "Part of me says what the hell, give the old girl one more shot at it. The other half of me says one of us better get the fuck outta Dodge before somebody winds up splattered with the same old shit-fan times ten."

Kuroudo-kun considered this. Then he stroked Ban-kun's face and kissed his forehead. "I think, that when the time comes...you will choose wisely as you see fit. That is all that anyone can ever ask of you."

"So I'm not just being a stubborn bastard with an axe to grind?"

Kuroudo-kun lowered his eyes momentarily, then flicked them back up to his mate's face. His lips curved playfully. "Well...minus the axe..."

"You," Ban-kun snorted, swatting him on his posterior. Kuroudo-kun was not in the slightest offended – his smile actually increased at the affectionate rebuke.

"Don't stress yourself out over it any longer, Ban-kun. It is wise to be prepared, and to consider one's options, but dwelling on unnecessary grief only brings more of the same." He pushed and rolled Ban-kun until they were reclining on the couch, Kuroudo-kun perched snugly on top. "Now, while I still have your undivided attention - "

"Like I have a choice here," Ban-kun chuckled.

" - while you are my captive audience, I have a favor to request of you."

"Ahh, here it comes. I knew there was a catch to talking with you."

Kuroudo-kun smiled patiently, pleased in the assurance of their familiar banter that their bond was back on its normal level ground – as normal as what could be expected from two powerful and strong-willed individuals joined in unholy alliance, that was. "I have a job to do this coming weekend. I would greatly appreciate it if you were to accompany me."

Ban-kun frowned. "You need a retriever?"

"In a personal capacity, Ban-kun, not a professional one this time."

"What for?"

Kuroudo-kun tilted his head. "Think of it as moral support. I confess that while you were absent, I wasn't in the best of moods either, and of late I have been having difficulty adhering to the terms of our agreement. I've been...sloppy," he finished matter-of-factly.

_No, Kuroudo-kun. Sloppy is when Ginji-kun doesn't bother to use a napkin at dinner,_ Medusa-chan said. _You could start your own blood bank with the stains you've been bringing home lately._

"But I haven't actually killed anyone yet," Kuroudo-kun added hastily upon seeing the way Ban-kun looked at him over the tops of his glasses. "That's why I think it would be best if you went with me. Having a visible reminder nearby will help me to remember not to be so...enthusiastic...about completing my mission."

Ban-kun looked as though he was caught between helpless laughter and irritable refusal. Having expended the bulk of his fury throughout recent times, however, he was not inclined to erupt more of the same, and gave in to a settling chuff. "All right. Yeah. Yeah, I can tag along and keep you on a shorter leash. That make you feel any better?"

Kuroudo-kun kissed him. "Perfect. I might even let you put a collar on me this time. If you can catch me," he teased.

"Oh, I'll catch you. You'll know it, that I promise you," Ban-kun grinned, and suddenly twisted and flipped Kuroudo-kun off of him, the two of them landing roughly on the floor and Ban-kun pouncing on top.

_Oh boy. Here they go again,_ my sister grumbled. _Come on, Bastet, let's go see if the fish stick finally went to that giant aquarium in the sky. _She got up and toddled off, tail twitching in the air.

Finally. Now I could have the sunbeam all to myself without interference. I stretched out to soak up the entirety of it, and pretended I did not hear the escalating vocalizations from our copulating humans.

--

TBC


	38. Meet The Parents part 7

Title: Meet The Parents (part 7 conclusion)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #23 – "candy"

Rating: R (m/m, language)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor spoilers for the history between Ban and Maria Noches; also spoilers for the manga ending.

Notes: This veers into AU territory as it references events from the manga ending, but I alter things for my own purposes. See further notes at the end of the story.  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Akabane's mom, however, is totally mine. And she won't hesitate to let you know it. XD  
Summary: Surprises of the relative kind are in store for both Ban and Akabane, and everybody gets a little eye candy – even dirty old women!

--

T-Day, as Medusa-chan had dubbed the transport mission, arrived with much the same peaceable preparations as had the day of our disastrous subterfuge. As my sister flatly refused to set foot in any moving vehicle again for the rest of her life, and I myself was not terribly excited over the possibility of another perilous journey, we decided to call upon some of Shido-kun's friends for surveillance assistance. These felines had grown contentedly fat and lazy from a life of luxury at the mansion where Shido-kun now lived, thanks to his mate, a charming young lady who played the violin for a living and was quite good at it. But they had lost none of their hunting skills, and once bribed with payment from Ban-kun's and Kuroudo-kun's refrigerator (though I had to confess, working that door open had been bloody difficult, even for our considerable talents) were more than happy to lend an extra set of whiskers.

Besides, Maria's place aside, neither of us was keen on setting foot anywhere near Mugenjou if we could help it. From what I'd overheard Kuroudo-kun saying on his cell phone to Makubex-kun, Operation Get Back Ban-kun's Mother was likely to take place in that very area, and it sounded as though it was going to be twice as dangerous as our little joyride, when I overheard Makubex-kun saying to Kuroudo-kun, "You owe me big for this one, Doctor Jackal."

Kuroudo-kun being Kuroudo-kun had simply laughed this off and assured the young man that everything would be taken care of, by which I supposed he meant that he would shield Makubex-kun from the vitriolic results of Ban-kun's discovery of their perfidy.

Having set our spies upon our humans, Medusa-chan and I spent the day mostly sleeping on their bed – revenge for being kicked out of the one at Maria's, my sister claimed; she made certain to shed more than a few hairs upon Kuroudo-kun's pillow – while we awaited word on our latest mission. It was fairly late in the afternoon before one of the sentries reported back to us, and then she had a surprising tale to share.

The insistent scratching on the window was what woke me and I bit at Medusa-chan's ears until she grudgingly hauled herself up from her nap. We pulled and clawed at the latch till the window opened to admit our cohort from the fire escape, an older stray dubbed by Shido-kun as Greyslake, whom Medusa-chan wasted no time in debriefing.

_They spent quite a bit of time fighting off those virtual ghosts that Makubex created, _Greyslake told us over a bowl of shared kibble. _Such a strange place, that Mugenjou. It makes humans do the most peculiar things._

_No kidding, _Medusa-chan said. _But Ban-kun! Tell us what happened with him and Sabrina!_

_Well, she was in a dreadful fright. Evidently she'd had some sort of business near there, and when the VRs attacked the poor woman had no idea what to do. Then your Ban and his Kuroudo showed up, and one of them went to battle the enemies while the other had to rescue the lady. There was an awful lot of yelling -_

_I hope Ban-kun didn't lose his temper again, _I said, tail curving back and forth.

_Well, yes and no, _Greyslake said. _He was rather upset, but he was shielding the lady from the worst of the attacks, and most of his ranting seemed to be directed at Kuroudo and this other person who arrived at the scene. What's the name of that blond that Shido-kun's always talking about? The one who can make his own electricity?_

_Ginji, _Medusa-chan answered. _What was he doing there?_

_He said he'd been told to be there. But I don't think he was supposed to have said that, because right after he did, he got this wide-eyed look on his face like he should have been keeping that information a secret, and Ban didn't look very happy with him. Or with Kuroudo, either. Especially when Kuroudo suddenly took a knife to the woman's throat._

Both of us gasped. _He didn't!_ I nearly howled.

Greyslake blinked. _He didn't kill her, if that's what you're afraid of. But I have to admit I thought he was going to, and so did your Ban. He started screaming at him wanting to know what he thought he was doing. I've never heard such profanity before. Kuroudo said that he was just solving the problem._

_Permanently, _Medusa-chan snorted.

_Well, that's what Kuroudo said. He said, 'Ban-kun, if this woman's presence makes you so unhappy, then the logical thing to do is to remove the source of the stress.' But your Ban didn't seem to like that. Neither did Ginji, but he didn't argue as strenuously as his friend; I wonder why? Kuroudo asked Ban if he wanted to be around this Sabrina. Ban said no, he didn't think he could after what had happened between them – I take it they weren't on good terms to begin with?_

_In a word, no, _I said. _But please go on! What happened?_

_Ban couldn't seem to make up his mind. He didn't appear to like this woman very much, but he also wasn't pleased with Kuroudo's offer to dispatch her. He wasn't in any danger, but he certainly looked like a rodent that's been tumbled over quite a few times. Complete daze. Anyway, he finally spoke to the woman, Sabrina. He told her that he couldn't forget the past between them, but he was willing to grant her a truce so long as she didn't interfere with his life. She looked like she was going to cry, but she seemed to understand what he meant, because she agreed to refrain from further contact at his request._

_Ban-kun really must be upset with her, _Medusa-chan said quietly. _Under the circumstances, I guess that's not so surprising after all._

Greyslake cast curious glances at both of us, but held back from asking. _It's not so much that he was upset by that point as he was...tense. Very grim. He said, 'I don't hate you any more, Sabrina. I realized that I don't have that energy to waste like I used to. More than that, I don't want to. I found a better way. But I have something here, something important that I want to protect, and God help me, I'll kill anybody who messes with that. Do you understand?' _

Medusa-chan's ears had flattened to the back of her head. _Wow. If he gave her the stinkeye like he does when he's really mad, I bet Sabrina didn't stick around long._

_No, she didn't, _Greyslake confirmed. _She said that she wouldn't ask any more of him than what he'd already given her, and she told him that in spite of their rift she was glad to see that he'd found his place in the world._ _I couldn't get too close to them for a while to hear most of what was said because the VRs kept reappearing and chasing me around with their disgusting slobbery tongues and their horribly loud barking._ Greyslake made a face. _But I did catch Ginji saying something like, 'It may be too late for her to be your mother, Ban-chan. But she could still be a friend to you...if you let her.'_

_Which didn't go over so well with Ban-kun, knowing him, _I cringed.

_He said, 'That depends,' but he didn't elaborate. Sabrina looked like she knew what he was talking about though. She said, 'If the Get Backers ever want anything from me, they're welcome to ask. I may not be able to give everything, but you have my word that I will give whatever I can.' She looked at Ban one more time and said, 'Thank you for this one last minute,' and then she walked away. _

_Well, that's something, I guess, _I said. _At least he didn't scream at Sabrina the way he did when they first met._

_Yet, _Medusa-chan reminded me.

_True. Still, all that we can do now is wait for them to return, _I sighed. _Thank you for helping us out, Greyslake._

_My pleasure, Lady Bastet. Thanks for the snack. You're welcome to call upon us again if you ever need anything in the future._ With that, Greyslake finished washing her face and hopped up on the sill again to exit via the window she'd entered.

Medusa-chan and I were left to ponder her revelations, and sit in anxious wait for our humans. We kept our minds occupied by alternating intervals of television-watching (thank goodness for nature programs) and Apep-supervising. Our finned friend was still none the worse for wear and it was beginning to drive Medusa-chan crazy.

_Doesn't he EVER cower?! You'd think that when a piece of prey the size of a tea leaf sees a gigantic enemy coming at him point-blank he'd leap out of his tank in abject fear to try and escape! I swear, prey these days have no respect for their superiors!_

I ignored my sister's tale of woe. Dinnertime was approaching and our litter pan was growing full. I knew my priorities, after all.

Fortunately just as it seemed as though all hope were lost, our humans returned. We gathered at the front door, equal parts anxious and eager to discover what had ultimately taken place during the fateful mission, but surprisingly, both of them were silent, and spared us little more than a passing head-scratch on their way to settle in for the evening. We were both puzzled. Neither of them seemed to be speaking to one another, yet they weren't giving off auras of extreme discontent with one another.

They fixed themselves some hot soup to eat – after Medusa-chan and I politely reminded them of their feline obligations – though neither man ate very much. I supposed that whatever had happened, the turbulent emotions had soured their appetites. Truth be told, I wasn't terribly hungry myself, and after a few slow nibbles I abandoned the dish to Medusa-chan's not-so-gentle advances and went to sit at Kuroudo-kun's feet.

When dinner was unofficially declared over, Kuroudo-kun cleared away the refuse and Ban-kun went into the bedroom. Several minutes later he emerged, wearing his pajamas. He approached Kuroudo-kun, who was drying the few dishes he'd washed from their meal. "I'll be on the couch when you're done," he grunted.

Kuroudo-kun put down the plate he was working on. "Not feeling well?"

"You could say that." Ban-kun coughed. "Look, I just need some chill time. That okay with you?"

Kuroudo-kun smiled. "It's all right."

Ban-kun nodded, and just as he turned to leave, his mate called out to him once more.

"Ban-kun?"

"Yeah?"

Kuroudo-kun's face was solemn, but his eyes stayed lit with quiet affection. "I'm very proud of you."

Ban-kun ducked his head, quickly scratching at his nape as he shoved a hand into his pants pocket. "Thanks, Jackal."

Kuroudo-kun went to him and kissed his cheek. "I understand. Truly, I do, Ban-kun. Didn't I say that you would choose as you saw fit?"

"Then why do I feel like my instincts failed me for once?"

Kuroudo-kun studied him. Then he put his hands on Ban-kun's shoulders. "Death isn't always an ending. Sometimes it can be a beginning. What you did wasn't easy for you, but your will has always guided you to the right path at the right time. And it's not as if your relation was completely severed with Sabrina-san. You heard her offer. The Get Backers are always welcome to call upon her in an hour of need."

"Well, I can't speak for Ginji, but I think it's gonna be a cold day in you-know-where before I talk to her again," Ban-kun said. He looked tired, very tired, as though he'd spent a long time in prison and was only now just relearning what freedom was like. "I wasn't lying when I said I didn't hate her. I don't. I just can't say that I feel anything for her now except numbness, a kind of regret at the way things turned out." He smiled sadly. "But you can't change history, can you?"

"No," Kuroudo-kun agreed. "But we learn from it, don't we? Surely that must count for something."

"Has to," Ban-kun said. "Otherwise we might as well hang our hats and call in our losses." He stood, looking surprisingly like a vulnerable child who had just learned that he was to be punished for some unnamed sin. "This what death felt like for you, Akabane? Just being...cut off. Whether it was necessary or not..."

Kuroudo-kun's face flickered in dismal remembrance but was quick to smooth over. My human did not like surrendering to displays of extravagant emotion. His voice, when he spoke, was slow and deliberately measured, to keep from breaking loose any notes that hinted of his own misery. "Death doesn't have to be an unwelcome demon. For some, it remains their fondest wish. Ask the patient suffering from the unbearable pain of a terminal illness. Or the soldier whose friends have all been felled before his eyes..." Kuroudo-kun trailed off, his eyes falling to the side as his emotions threatened to seize control in spite of his desires.

Ban-kun wandered into the living room, sagging onto the couch. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cigarette, which he put to his lips, but did not light. He chewed on it for a few minutes before speaking again, more to himself than to his lover.

"Maybe I was just fooling myself. Maybe I never really had a chance at all, maybe my fate is set in stone. Maybe this is the one enemy I can't fight."

Kuroudo-kun looked up from his musings and came to join him on the couch. "It's not foolish at all, Ban-kun. It would only be foolish if you conceded defeat before your battle even began." He hesitated with a thoughtful look. "That is the excitement of challenging fate, no? The satisfaction lies in the actual struggle. True fate cannot distinguish exact victories or defeats, unless you subscribe to a particular doctrine. But we are men of action, not superstition. It is incumbent upon us to test these theories fully."

Ban-kun mulled that over while he continued to gnaw up on his unlit cigarette. Hoping to keep him from befouling the air with those noxious fumes, Medusa-chan approached his feet and pawed at his legs, his cue to pick her up and drape her across his lap. I contented myself with an arm seat at the far end, where I could watch the both of them.

"You got a point there, I suppose. Computer boy had his knickers in a knot 'cause he thought all that shit he found in the Archive was the real deal. But I told him that it was all really just a bunch of crap made up by the puppeteers in Babylon. Of course they're gonna skew the results of their calculations in their favor. Doesn't mean it's going to actually turn out that way, especially if strong wills are involved..."

Kuroudo-kun leaned closer to his mate and stroked his face. "I want for you to be happy."

"I am."

"No, you're not. Unless you confront this challenge to its fullest, Ban-kun, you will never really be truly happy. It is not in your blood to turn tail from fear. You must not deny your true nature, my dearest." Kuroudo-kun kissed him. "Trust me."

"I do. That's what makes it so daunting." Ban-kun sighed. "I know I give you a lot of grief about your life, Kuroudo. It's just – sometimes the past needs to stay dead and buried, you know what I mean?"

"And sometimes it needs to be exhumed, if one desires a satisfying resolution," Kuroudo-kun gently reminded him.

Ban-kun spat out his cigarette and stared at the floor for a while. Neither man said anything more for a while.

_It's easy for Kuroudo-kun to say that, _Medusa-chan said to me as she curled her tail around Ban-kun's fingers. _Yet he won't say a word about his private pain even when Ban-kun asks him nicely. He was in a war once, wasn't he, Bastet?_

_I think so, _I said. _But perhaps he knows what he's doing by prompting Ban-kun. Kuroudo-kun has his own ideas about how things ought to proceed. It's not that he completely refuses Ban-kun's requests for information, it's more that he seems to prefer a certain timing for his confessions. Someday the full truth will come out, I'm sure..._

"I'll think about it," Ban-kun said suddenly. "Just don't expect any miracles. Ginji's right, it's too late for her to be a mom to me. But..." He looked up, studying a picture on the wall. It was one of his favorites – a tranquil forest setting that he'd bought from a person named Clayman some time ago. "Maybe – maybe it would be...all right, if we could manage not to tear each other's heads off if we crossed paths in the future. I could live with that, at least."

Kuroudo-kun nodded. "You can do this, Ban-kun. I know you can."

He raised a brow. "What makes you so sure?"

Kuroudo-kun smiled. "Haven't you and Ginji-kun taught me a few things about the power of belief?"

Ban-kun abruptly laughed. "Forget anything we ever said. We're a couple of unemployed retriever bums, what the hell do we know about anything."

Kuroudo-kun looked confused for a moment. He lifted a hand and out shot several of his claws, glowing with eager purpose. "Does that mean I should dismiss the terms of our agreement as well?"

Medusa-chan yowled when Ban-kun dislodged her by bolting up from the couch and waving his hands in a near-panic. "No! No! That part still stands!"

"Only clarifying," Kuroudo-kun said with his slyly playful smile, and retracted his claws.

Ban-kun was slower to respond, but he did smile back – not a full-blown smile, like the kind that Ginji-kun got when he was squealing over a dessert; neither was it a slither of amusement like the type that graced Kuroudo-kun's lips whenever he was anticipating a welcome challenge. But the ends of his mouth tugged upwards just a bit, and the weariness in his eyes was made warmer by the understanding they had implicitly passed, and so it was accurate proof of a smile by anyone's standards.

_Oh Ban-kun, _Medusa-chan mewled, quickly forgetting her rude upset. _Do you really think he'll be all right, Bastet?_

_I don't know, _I answered after hesitating. I saw no point in fobbing my sister off with false promises, since we both knew that the emotional stakes in this game were no small distractions. _I hope so, for both their sakes. _I paused again, seeing Medusa-chan's drooping tail. _But just between you and me, I think it's a good sign that Ban-kun took this first step all by himself. Even if he and Sabrina never do reconcile fully, it's something that he's chosen to face his past without the hostility that seems to have marked it._

_Maybe not all by himself, _my sister said as she nudged me to look to Kuroudo-kun. He was getting up from the couch and sauntering into the bedroom. We padded after him and were just in time to see him picking up his phone and busily punching in numbers. When the receiver picked up he murmured in an unmistakably satisfied tone, "Ginji-kun? We did it."

We both shook our heads. _Ban-kun had better pray that those two never ever team up against him, because if they do, he's zwieback, _Medusa-chan said.

_Zwieback?_

_Toast done twice, _my sister chuckled, and flicked her paw in my face.

I considered this. Given Ginji-kun's electrical abilities...and Kuroudo-kun's talent for handling culinary tools...yes, there were certainly formidable powers involved. Couple that with their devious natures...

Poor, poor Ban-kun.

--

Roughly about a month after the Sabrina Surprise things calmed down somewhat. Oh, Ban-kun still spewed steam at anyone and everyone who aggravated him, and Kuroudo-kun still meted out pointed discipline to those who offended his gentlemanly sensibilities, but generally speaking, the lovers were back to their semi-normal routine, and their friends and acquaintances were finally able to breathe an enormous sigh of relief. Nobody liked rain, least of all the bloody kind.

Sabrina turned out to be an interesting addition to the city's residents. She visited the Honky Tonk one last time to have a cup of tea and a small meal with us. She didn't stay very long, likely out of concern for overstaying her tenuous welcome, but the scant conversation between her and Ban-kun remained civil for the most part, and she, instinctively realizing the wisdom of currying favor with the heads of the Midou household, brought along a little treat for Medusa-chan and I. She was, she said that day, thinking about leasing a place somewhere in the southern districts and maybe locating some part-time employment. Ban-kun told her to talk with Paul-kun, as he had a solid reputation as an information source, and could find the opportunities she preferred.

Der Kaiser also came along. Those moments were bittersweet – we liked the fact that he played with us and helped us throw our humans into utter bewilderment at our antics, but he looked so sad by the time Sabrina left. I felt bad for the poor man. He retained some contact with his son due to their mutual witching powers, but his wife remained achingly out of reach. Ban-kun looked very discomfited during their one-sided exchanges; he couldn't figure out whether he should alert Sabrina to her husband's otherworldly presence or refrain from rocking the boat any more than what tempests had already tossed at it.

Nonetheless, life in our kingdom had been restored to its equilibrium, and we prowled sovereign over all that we surveyed. Or so we thought, till the day that Luce came to visit us at the Honky Tonk and dropped a new hairball on everyone.

We were holding court at the counter. The Great Food Bringer's sanctuary was suspected to have been invaded by another pest, and our expertise had been requested. Luce strolled through the door right on the heels of a customer and made a beeline for us.

_Standing guard duty again? Bor-ring._

_You don't hear us complaining,_ Medusa-chan said with a smirk. _We get freebies for putting in overtime._

_Not a bad racket, I suppose. Think 'ol Wan would cut a third party a piece of the action?_

_Maybe, if you make it look like you're doing something useful, _I said. _The trick is to stare intently at a spot. It makes the humans think you're getting ready to attack something._

_Eh, my eyes have already been put out of focus for the day. I just got away from Maria's hen party. She invited a couple of friends of hers over to watch some snuff film she'd made. Ban-kun's right, she's a pervert, _he chuckled fondly.

_Funny, _I said, noting the way Luce only just met our gazes. I wondered what he was holding back. _I can't picture Maria watching pornographic movies._

_Neither could I, till she broke out her camera and computer and held a little pow-wow around the desk, _Luce replied. _One of the gals asked her if there was audio to go with the eye candy. Maria said nope, it was just visual for now, but she was working on getting a good sound bite for the next time. Let's just say that Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun could have one helluva starring career on the internet if they ever want to switch professions._

I hissed softly, remembering what our humans had gotten up to during our last visit to the witch's. _You've got to be kidding! Doesn't Maria feel like such a dirty old woman, peeping on the urchin she raised while he's having intimate relations with his mate?!_

Luce shrugged. _One of her friends asked the same thing. She said yes, but it was worth it. She said, and I quote, 'I haven't seen a bum that cute in ages, you know!'_

Medusa-chan sank into a ball of black fur and put her paws over her face. _Good grief. And here we thought things had quieted down for a change..._

_Aren't humans great for entertainment? _Luce said. _And that's not all, my dear. Wait'll you hear the latest kibble I picked up from Shido-kun!_

_Heh. As if I'd trust any fumes that obnoxious zookeeper breathes, _Medusa-chan growled, flicking her ears back. _He only says things to get a rise out of Ban-kun._

_Well, if he plays his cards right this'll send our boy into permanent orbit, _Luce laughed. _And that's not counting the sawbones' reaction!_

I perked up at that. _Kuroudo-kun is involved?_

_Is he ever._ Luce grinned. _I take it that you haven't met Paul's new guest yet? Got a lot of fresh business coming in these days, he does._

_He gets customers in all the time, _I said. _What's special about this one?_

_She's been coming in every day since she started showing up around the first of this month. She always asks for Kuroudo, but he has yet to show his face. She doesn't seem put out by it though. Just says she'll come back again, pays for her drink and leaves. Like clockwork. _Luce plopped onto the counter in front of us as he prepared to deliver his news. _I wasn't there to see it myself, but this is what Shido told Madoka-chan last week..._

_--_

If Ginji had to guess, he'd peg the visitor at about or close to Natsumi's height; indeed, until he'd gotten closer, he'd almost mistaken her for a friend of the waitress's. Her slender frame, as lithe as a willow reed, seems to glide along the sidewalk like mist from a gentle rain. Her slipper catches on a piece of uneven concrete, and before her stumble is complete he is there by her side, grasping her arm to keep her from losing balance and falling onto the ground.

She says something in a foreign language, then repeats it for his benefit in his own language. "Thank you. Such a kind boy." Her accent is smooth, almost fluid, and its gentle tone reminds him of something…someone…he can't quite place.

Ginji smiles and helps her regain her footing. "Careful. Paul says he's going to have that fixed by the end of the month. Are you okay?"

The woman nods. "_Aa, aa_. My eyesight is not what it used to be," she says in halting Japanese. "I have glasses, but they are uncomfortable to wear. I suppose one day I get some new ones." She sighs slight but sharp annoyance, as if the thought of being spectacle-bound is a weakness she finds intolerable. Though her hair is dark – despite being shot through generously with streaks of silver that enhances her aged beauty – she is clearly not native to this land. Her skin is lightly tanned, almost the same warm shade as Himiko's, and her dress is not a style most modern Shinjuku women are seen sporting, though it is beautiful and the flowing linen folds suit her well. He wonders where she's from, and why she's going into the Honky Tonk.

Her eyes, when she looks at him, are the most beautiful color of purple he's ever seen. Like fresh lilacs after a summer storm.

The woman gestures at the door of the coffee shop. "You are going here, also?"

"Yeah," Ginji answers. "My friend Ban-chan and I come here all the time. It's a great place, you'll like it," he says encouragingly. "Paul makes the best ham sandwiches! And pizza!"

She bows her head. "Mm. Perhaps I try something, then, while I wait." He holds the door for her, and she goes inside. Natsumi promptly bounces over to take their orders, blushing and giggling when the woman pats her arm and thanks her for being "a dear, sweet child" and forgiving the elder's limited command of the local language.

"What are you waiting for?" Ginji asks as they sit down at the counter while their food is being prepared.

"I wait for my son," the woman answers. "I was told he comes here." Her face is lined with much sorrow, but fragmented by the shine of hope. "You come here, too? Maybe you see him…" She sighs. "It has been a long time. I hope he remembers me."

"I'm sure he does," Ginji says, offering a comforting smile. "Were you separated? Or maybe he travels a lot?"

"Yes, yes," the woman answers, waving a hand. "He travels much. It is his job. But I have not heard from him in years. Not his fault. His father took him away when I fell ill. They thought I was dead. _I_ thought I was dead, but not so. Only very sick. But my son never knows this." Her tone turns bitter with the caustic hint of past memories. "My family, they do not like him, they treat us both poorly when he was younger. Stupid fools. Always so suspicious, so eager for a scapegoat. My boy is not what they say he is. Such a good boy, very polite, always a good son to his mother. Not some silly demon. I know what demons are." She pauses to sip at her drink and refresh her throat. "This is very good coffee. Few people make coffee that I like." She looks around the room and smiles briefly, the Honky Tonk having gained her seal of approval.

"Paul makes it fresh every day. It's his specialty," Ginji says.

"I prefer tea. Better for you. But if this place has good coffee, it must have good tea as well." The mystery woman nods. "So. I wake up, they tell me my boy and my husband have disappeared, abandoned me. I must use a detective to find him. Many years pass before I finally find the information I want." She softens her words. "That is why I come to this place."

Her voice has an almost musical quality to it. Ginji imagines how lonely she must be, not having seen her child for so long, and he wants to hug her. He and Natsumi both have a soft spot for older people, and he can easily see this one as someone's adorable grandmother. He reaches out and folds his hand over hers.

"I'm sure you'll see your son soon," he says. "Does he have brothers or sisters in the area?"

The woman shakes her head slowly, her eyes lowering. "He is my only child. I had another, who would have been his younger sister, but…" She takes a long, indrawn breath to steady herself against another flash of bitterness. "Never mind. It is a sad story."

Ginji takes that to mean that she lost the baby and could not have any more after that. He lightly squeezes her hand. "I'm sorry."

She smiles wanly and grasps his hand in return. "_Aa._ You are a good boy. Your mother must be proud, to have a son as caring as you."

Ginji muses. "I think so," he says after a moment's reflection.

The woman nods. "Good. Good," she says, wagging a fingertip at him.

There is an awkward silence, which Ginji feels compelled to fill. He smiles and sticks out his hand. "I'm Ginji, by the way."

She takes her hand in his, a firm grasp. "Gin-ji," she repeats, carefully forming the syllables of his name. "It is nice to meet you, Ginji. I am called Paniwi Nebt-het."

That's a mouthful Ginji has trouble wrapping his tongue around, but he tries anyway just to be polite, and she doesn't seem to mind when he butchers the consonants. "It's very pretty," he says gamely.

She smiles. "Thank you. You may call me Akane, if you like. That is the name my husband gave to me when I came to this country."

"Akane," Ginji tries this time, and it flows easily. He beams. "It's nice to meet you too, Akane-san."

The sandwiches arrive and Ginji wastes no time digging in, though he tries to restrain himself somewhat out of respect for the lady sitting next to him. Akane eats solidly, taking firm bites and chewing with measured pace. She pauses to sip again at the coffee Natsumi brought upon request, and when she sets her cup down she says to him, "It should not be long now. I was told that my son always arrives at a certain time." She looks visibly anxious.

Again, Ginji pats her hand in reassurance. "What's your son's name? Maybe I've heard of him, or Paul has. He knows everybody that comes to the Honky Tonk."

"Is that so," Akane says. "My son has two names, in truth. His father wanted him to have a name from this land, in addition to the one he was given at birth. So it was done. To me, he will always be Karawan-Harakhty. But I know that he now works under the name given to him by his father." She looks to the front window for a while, then turns back to Ginji with the strength of pride evident in her chin. "I have a picture of him that the detective gave to me. He has grown to be such a handsome boy. Would you like to see?"

"Sure!"

Akane is pleased. She rifles through her purse, a small but brightly decorated bag, and pulls out a color photograph. She passes it to Ginji, and it's all he can do not to gag on the last bite of his sandwich and run shrieking from the diner.

That wild black hair, those sly purple eyes, that big hat and insufferable _smile_ – he'd know that face anywhere even if he was blindfolded.

"Ah! You do know him!" Akane says, clapping her hands together in delight. The excitement in her eyes is almost unbearable, and much though Ginji wants badly to bail out of this sinking ship before it can drag him into the undertow, his inner critic is sharply scolding him for even thinking about disappointing Akabane-san's mother.

Besides, Akabane-san would NOT be happy, if he heard that Ginji was rude to her…!

"I'm told that he is a very successful doctor," Akane says. "He must be well-known in these parts, then. Good physicians are terribly difficult to find these days. My Karawan must be quite a famous one too, if he has a practice in France! Did you know that they call him Dr. Jacquel?"

"Ban-chaaaaaaaaaan," Ginji whines as he wobbles away from the counter...

--

Medusa-chan and I sat still as statues, disbelieving of the tale we'd just borne witness to. Luce was bent over cackling to himself about the sheer insanity of our new dilemma. After all, how _do_ you tell a dangerous transporter that his long-lost mother is here to visit?

_Well, that explains why Ginji-kun's been avoiding everybody all week, _I finally said when I could manage speech. _Poor boy's probably terrified out of his skin. I wonder why Ban-kun hasn't said anything? Surely he knows by now that something's up. He always knows when something's wrong with the humans closest to him._

_Oh Bastet, _Medusa-chan sighed. _Haven't you learned anything about Ban-kun by now? Remember, revenge is a dish best served cold._

_Revenge? For what?_

_Kuroudo-kun's not the only one who can scheme his heart out to a science, _my sister said. _Ban-kun got his mother back. I think Kuroudo-kun is about to get his back – in spades!_

She looked at me, I looked at Luce, and he looked at the both of us. A pity we couldn't temporarily declaw our human. He had an astonishing ability to create an endless supply of weapons. However, we could take a few precautionary measures to ensure he would not have as many materials at his disposal. Like Ban-kun, we preferred our dwellings to be all in one piece. I sighed and shook my head.

_I'll hide the kitchen knives. _

--

That night we decided to pay Ginji-kun a little visit, and reassure him that whatever the outcome of Ban-kun's eventual payback, we would do our best to spare him from any imagined punishment that his perceived nemesis might conceivably invent. I could sympathize with Ginji-kun's distress – pacifying the wrath of a Kuroudo dragon was much harder than one might think. It took some doing, but we managed to coax the wary retriever out from underneath his bed, and with the help of a stovetop – for some inexplicable reason, Ginji-kun harbored a strong distrust of microwaves and refused to have one installed - we clustered around the table to enjoy some heated beef and chop suey.

_Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight – augh! Help me, Bastet, that song's going to stick in my ears all night! _Medusa-chan grumbled.

I shushed her with a swipe of my tail towards our gracious host. _Ginji-kun, remember?_

None of us preferred to comment further on the music that we could hear thumping from next door as part of Ban-kun's recent birthday celebration. Medusa-chan and I had decided that Ginji-kun didn't need to know why Ban-kun was wearing only a thin piece of underwear and dancing around trying to climb the pole from a light fixture, and why Kuroudo-kun was dressed in what was ostensibly some sort of female medical personnel's uniform, albeit one missing a great deal of fabric. I was fairly certain that nurses didn't wear garters with scalpels strapped to their thighs anyway.

To occupy Ginji-kun's mind on safer matters, I butted his arm with my head. He immediately cuddled me closer, not worried at all that I, as a presumably lower-ranked life form, was trespassing upon one of the several classic forbidden areas for cats. Kuroudo-kun was adamant about correcting inappropriate table manners.

"I'm glad you guys are here, Bastet," Ginji-kun said, burying his face in my fur. It would mean a thorough bath for me later, given the sauce stains around his mouth, but for once I didn't mind cleaning sticky goop out of my coat. "At least I can talk to you and Medusa-chan and not have to worry that you two will yell at me!"

_Not necessarily,_ _Ginji-kun,_ Medusa-chan said, licking away a strip of meat from her plate. _Keep the food coming and we'll all get along just fine._

He laughed, and we smiled indolence with him. Ginji-kun seemed to relax more with us around; it was my belief that he could use a feline master or two of his own. "Boy, what a couple of months this has been, huh? I knew Ban-chan had a mom, but I never thought he'd get to be with her again. I'm glad they could at least talk to each other, even if they didn't get along. I always thought that Ban-chan kinda missed her. He'd never talk about her to me, but he used to ask me if I ever missed my mom."

Ginji-kun paused. "I grew up without any parents. I guess...I had so many friends around me that I just never noticed if I was missing anything. I still got a lot of love and encouragement from the people that knew me best. But I know that Ban-chan didn't have that when he was a kid. I wish I could've been there for him so he didn't have to grow up feeling so alone."

I purred agreement, while Medusa-chan merely grunted acknowledgment. The meat was especially good even as a leftover, and I made a mental note to refer Ban-kun to its provider the next time he wanted Chinese takeout.

"Now, Akabane-san – wow! I never would've thought he had any family!" Ginji-kun shuddered. "His mom was really nice to me when I met her, but you wanna know a secret?" He huddled closer and spoke to us in a whisper. "She's kinda scary too!"

_You're just saying that because she's related to Kuroudo-kun and you're afraid of him,_ I assured him.

"No, honest, I'm not just saying that," Ginji-kun said. "I mean, she really is a nice lady, but I get the feeling that if you made her mad, you'd be in _major_ trouble. Plus Akabane-san would find out and then HE'D get mad. And you know how scary Akabane-san can be when he's mad!"

_How can we not? You scream about it every time you're forced to join him on a joint mission,_ Medusa-chan chuckled quietly to herself.

"I figure, I'm just not going to say anything for now until Akane-san is formally introduced," Ginji-kun said as he laid out his plan. "Anyway, Ban-chan told me he wanted to be the one to break the news to Akabane-san. Fine by me! He can take the heat for it," he cackled. "And Ban-chan can't get mad at me because I already told him about Akane-san so there's no surprises he can blame things on. So if Akabane-san decides to get revenge, I'll just say it was Ban-chan's fault." Ginji-kun looked decidedly pleased with himself for having concocted what he saw as a fail-safe alibi.

_Ah yes. Revenge._ I looked up from my nearly-finished dinner. _That reminds me, Medusa-chan. I have some business to take care of. _

_Where are you going, Bastet?_ my sister asked as I jumped down from the table and headed for the apartment door.

_I'm just going to look in on Ban-kun and Kuroudo-kun for a second. I'll be right back._

I crossed the hallway and scratched at the door opposite Ginji-kun's until the knob gave way. The music had thankfully dispersed by now, only to be replaced with a different serenade, and it wasn't 'Happy Birthday,' although the participants were fully attired in their birthday suits. I studiously ignored the frolicking humans on the floor and tiptoed down the hallway to the office.

Apep the betta fish snapped alarm and blew furious bubbles at me as I hopped onto the desk and calmly regarded his dominion as I examined every possible angle. Ban-kun had forgotten to tighten the lid after this morning's feeding, and the duct tape securing it was loose from repeated removals and attachments.

_Sorry, Apep. It's nothing personal. I'm a professional, you understand._

The tape I was able to pull off, first from the lid and then from my teeth. I couldn't fathom why some humans liked to eat such glue; it tasted revolting. But that was neither here nor there. The lid itself popped apart with minimal fuss and I plunged a paw into the water. Apep was a crafty devil, I had to admit, but upon seeing the defeat of his protective barriers he panicked and drove himself into a corner, and I scooped him out within seconds. Though he struggled valiantly, in the end his swift fins were no match for my surgical intervention. I smiled as those immortal words from William Wordsworth came to my mind.

_Long may you love your pensioner Mouse,_

_Though one of a tribe that torment the house;_

_Nor dislike for her cruel sport the Cat,_

_That deadly foe of both mouse and rat._

_Remember she follows the law of her kind;_

_And Instinct is neither wayward nor blind. _

--

Notes:

'Karawan' is an ancient Arabic expression meaning "to ward off the Evil Eye."

The Japanese translation of Akabane's surname means 'red bird', and 'Harakhty' is Egyptian for 'Horus of the Two Horizons.' Horus was an Egyptian warrior god who was believed to take the form of a hawk, aka...a bird. Since the manga has revealed some rather interesting things (which I won't mention for those of you who haven't yet read it) about Akabane's origins, I thought that the 'two horizons' reference was apt.

The French 'Jacquel' Akabane's mother innocently refers to is a pun – say it out loud a few times and you'll get the joke. ;)

Incidentally, Akabane's mother's name was fun to create, considering her son's lethal reputation. The Japanese 'Akane' means 'red', while the Egyptian 'Paniwi Nebt-het' can be broken down into several meanings: 'Paniwi' means 'the bringer' and 'Nebt-het' means 'lady of the house.' Nebt-het also refers to the Egyptian goddess of death (who was known as Nephthys in the Greek version), so put all together Akabane's mom's name basically means 'the bringer of red death!'

The lyrics to the song quoted by Medusa the cat are from the song 'Get Down Tonight', which belongs to and is sung by KC & The Sunshine Band. I don't own the song nor is any infringement or monetary gain intended from the use of these lyrics.

The poem quoted by Lady Bastet the cat at the end is written by William Wordsworth. Again, no infringement is intended from the use.

I'd like to thank very much those of you who have commented on this fic offering suggestions; they were a huge help to me as I was having trouble with the ending but couldn't quite figure out why until a few folks pointed out some important stuff to me and I made a couple of necessary revisions. :) Thank you all so much!


	39. Stairway To Heaven part 1

For all of you who wonder what Akabane's mother might be like, here you go. :)

Title: Stairway To Heaven (ch. 1)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #22 – "cradle"

Rating: PG-13 (language, m/m)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor ones for basic canon.

Notes: The tarot used is the standard deck; I tweaked it a little to provide suitable drama for Himiko's reading. ;)  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Akane Akabane though, is my own invention.  
Summary: Himiko reflects on the mysterious no-man's land that brought Ban and Akabane together, and a new path revealed sets into motion a revolution that will change everyone's lives forever.

--

There were but three fundamental truths of life: taxes, death, and the fact that regardless of where one was, whatever time of day or night it happened to be, Mugenjou's shadow was always around. Himiko Kudou studied the forbidding outline of the structure as its shape cast a pall at the edge of the Honky Tonk's door.

Strange, she thought, how everything always seemed to revolve around a place that most people dared not name. Even her own brother had refused to speak of it, at least when she was around. She'd caught Yamato staring at it once during a job, a look of thoughtfulness on his face. She'd started to ask him what he was thinking, and then their pursuers had caught up with them and the question had gotten lost amidst the confusion of escape. Later she'd forgotten all about it. Now it was too late to ask him at all.

Himiko went inside the shop. Wan Paul was there as always, keeping mostly silent vigil for the odd customer that wandered inside as well as the usual unofficial 'family' that frequented his place. At first she'd been hesitant to consider herself as part of that group; she still didn't feel as though she wholly belonged. But she knew without asking that the regulars here felt she did.

One of them bounced over from his seat to greet her. "Himiko-chan! C'mon and sit with us."

She was certain she was accepted because of Ginji, even though she was more familiar with Ban; that much she'd quickly picked up on. It went without saying that if Ginji liked you, you were in, and if you were in with Ginji it was fairly safe to say that Ban would tolerate you likewise (unless, of course, you were Shido Fuyuki). As far as Himiko was concerned his tolerance went a lot farther given their history, but the majority of the Honky Tonk patrons were or had once been related to Ginji in some way and to them he was still their lord of lightning, the leader to whom they paid fealty above all else, thus his word carried more weight.

Himiko didn't mind, really. She'd wanted to hate Ginji at first, when she was still nursing a grudge against Ban and his childlike faith in the man responsible for her brother's death had roused a frustrated rage inside her. But Ginji's inexplicable gentleness and refusal to give in to bitterness and despair were oddly contagious, and she wound up liking him in spite of herself.

She supposed Mugenjou had had something to do with that, and how mellowed Ban seemed to have become ever since taking up with him. She didn't know very many details, but Ban had told her, and others had mentioned, small stories about Ginji's life growing up in and patrolling the bowels of the infinite fortress. The squalor there had literally been his cradle since birth, and almost certainly had played a mysterious part in nurturing Ginji's tender side. It was a perplexing feature he all but rolled over onto his back to expose to anybody and everybody who crossed his path – or would have, if it hadn't been for Ban's urging that he show a little more caution.

Mugenjou, she suspected, was where Ban had gone to die shortly after he left her in the wake of Yamato's death. He'd never said anything and she'd never asked, but over time comments made here and there by the man who was happily escorting her to the booth made Himiko think that Ban had gone into that place expecting one thing and come out rather surprised by another. If anyone had asked her back when she was still fresh in her grief over her brother, she would have said she didn't give a damn whether or not the Jagan master perished there, but now…a secret part of her was forever thankful that Ginji's light had been enough to spare Ban from the stronghold's darkness. The loss of two brothers might have been more than she could bear.

He glanced up at her in the act of lighting one of his ever-present cigarettes. "Hey kid, what's up?"

"Don't call me a kid," Himiko automatically responded, not quite as defensive as she would have been in the old days but still not appreciating his remark. She could outpace grown men twice her age; that ought to count for something.

Ban smirked unrepentantly at her. "When your figure's one-fourth the size of Hevn's you're still a preadolescent as far as I'm concerned."

Himiko shot him a dirty look but otherwise ignored the rude comment. It was just Ban being Ban as usual. "What are you bums up to?" she asked instead.

Ginji offered her the window seat before scooting in next to her. "Oh, you know, haggling with clients, scouting fresh offers, that kinda stuff," Ban replied before toking deeply on his cigarette and exhaling a cloud of curling smoke.

"Car got towed this morning," Ginji piped up.

Ban stared at him. Then he reached across the table and smacked Ginji's head. "Ginji, you mind shutting the everliving fuck up about that?" he snapped, though there was no real venom in his tone. "God, I swear you're worse than a gossip columnist. I get towed at nine and by ten the whole of Shinjuku knows about it. Sheesh."

It was Himiko's turn to smirk. "Quit parking where you're not supposed to and you won't get towed."

"Listen, Miss Smarty-Transporter, just because I don't own a scooter – "

" – It's not a scooter, it's a motorcycle – "

" – anybody want some of Paul's pizza?"

" – that can go places cars can't park – "

" – You're just jealous that I never have to blow my entire pay on parking fines – "

" – Ban-chan, are you and Himiko-chan hungry? 'Cause I am – "

The ringing of the doorbell interrupted the conversation. Sakura waved to them as she entered. "I can't stay long. I'm just dropping off some data discs Makubex wanted sent to the shop," she explained as Paul moved over to accept the small package she was carrying.

"How is the 'ol wonder boy? Keeping his nose outta trouble, I hope?" Ban asked.

Sakura smiled as she approached their table. "He's fine. He sends his greetings to all of you." She nodded at Ginji. "He's hoping you'll come and visit him sometime this week, Ginji-san. He misses you."

Brown eyes softened. "I miss him too," Ginji said. "Tell him I'll definitely try to come to Mugenjou if Ban-chan and I aren't on a job. I wish we could chat on the computer, but, well, you know…" he laughed sheepishly as he held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. Tiny sparks danced from their tips like miniature lightning bolts: the perfect recipe for disaster involving electronics.

Himiko's gaze traveled over to Ban. It said a lot about how Mugenjou's Raitei export had changed him, that he would care enough to offer even a cursory inquiry into the well-being of someone he knew only through his acquaintance with Ginji, and someone who had once tried to attack him at that. Once you crossed Ban Midou you were on his shit list for life. She knew his distrust had something to do with his own peculiar past. Yamato had said that Ban had had a hard life before coming to live with them. _Brother,_ she silently bemoaned, _why didn't you ever tell me anything?_ So many mysteries to have to unravel…

"How have you been, Himiko-san?" Sakura's voice brought her back to awareness.

"I'm all right. Yourself?" The Kakei siblings were an interesting pair, she mused. Strangely honorable and committed to their respective charges – Juubei to Kazuki and Sakura to Makubex – she'd found herself liking them almost immediately, Sakura especially because she was the first female friend Himiko could ever remember having in a long time. The older girl treated her as an equal, not someone to look down upon or compete with just because she lacked certain traits.

"I'm well, thank you. Juubei reminded me to ask you if you'd like to join us at the springs next month. He'll be staying with Kazuki-san and Toshiki-san most of the time so we probably won't see him much, but I'd be happy to play tour guide for you. It really is a lovely retreat." Sakura smiled encouragingly at Himiko.

She smiled back. "If I'm not working then, I'll consider it," Himiko answered. "It's kind of you to offer."

"We hope to see you, then," Sakura said. She bowed and passed her well-wishes to Himiko and the others, and headed for the exit.

On her way out she happened to touch the door just as it was opening, and almost collided with the latest entry to the Honky Tonk. Himiko's eyes widened as a pair of white-gloved hands steadied Sakura from toppling over as she reached out to grasp a black-clad arm for support.

"Oh! I'm so sorry."

"It's quite all right, miss…?"

"Sakura. I remember you, Akabane-san."

"Yes. Ah, from Mugenjou, wasn't it? Makubex-kun's lieutenant?"

"Yes," Sakura said. "Thank you, Akabane-san." She realized she was still holding onto his arm, and quickly let go, ducking her head as she hid a small blush. "Forgive me. I'm terribly sorry."

He smiled and removed his hat, bowing low to her. "No need to apologize, Sakura-san. I trust you are well?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"A pleasant day to you, then."

"And to you as well, Akabane-san," Sakura replied, as she left the shop and he drifted further inside. Himiko waved to him as he was replacing his hat, and he caught her eye and smiled in acknowledgment of the invitation.

One wouldn't have thought that he'd changed any since establishing a peculiar rapport with the Get Backers…but the signs were there, if anyone cared to look for them. The most obvious of course was the decrease in bloodshed – though the J's flew just as fast and furious as they always had when he was at work they weren't usually fatal ones, as they had been in the past. But there was more to it as well. Akabane seemed…somehow calmer these days, not just going through the motions of a practiced peace but actually relaxing into a contentment of sorts that had nothing to do with job satisfaction.

Interestingly, it was Ban who appeared to be the major source of this adjustment. Himiko had always known that Akabane had had a special infatuation with both Get Backers from the day the transporters and retrievers had met, but somewhere along the way that infatuation had sharpened into a keen fascination, an obsession, and something that had taken place between Ban and Akabane had honed that focus into an unusual relationship shared with no small devotion by the two of them. Himiko wished she knew what it was. She suspected – indeed, she would not have been entirely surprised if it were true - that Mugenjou was involved. She'd tried asking Ban once, but he'd merely shrugged and replied, "It is what it is, kid," and – typical of him – refrained from saying anything more on the subject.

Akabane was even less inclined to discuss intimate matters, both because he was infuriatingly secretive and because his polite disposition prevented him from detailing the specifics of such gossip. Ironically Himiko had had better luck in mining him for information than she did with Ban, possibly because she'd learned from the experience of working with him that there was a way to probe Akabane for information without being terribly obvious about it. The trick was both in deciphering the maddening clues he could be manipulated into offering, and in remaining alive at the same time.

Not that Himiko felt she was in much danger of her cohort's temper. Akabane was quite the laid-back type, and though his annoyance was easily incurred by minor infraction against what he considered good manners, it was rare for him to express genuine anger. Even so, she sensed that there were certain things one did not attempt to broach with Doctor Jackal no matter how careful the couching. Only Ban seemed capable of that, and even he had limited success. Himiko remembered how, during the early days of their relationship, Ban would often limp into the Honky Tonk bearing a vast array of bandages: souvenirs from arguments with his prickly lover.

Nowadays the atmosphere between serpent and Jackal was more settled. Having survived through rockier times, their bond had strengthened into an unmistakable passion that clearly enthralled both men. Ban had been around, Himiko vaguely knew, but she'd never have figured him to take up with someone like Akabane, and she'd never in all her wildest dreams expected Akabane to fall for anybody, much less a person as mercurial as Ban. Whatever it was that they shared, it worked for them, and she was glad for both that they seemed to have found their place.

Ban got up to nab an extra cup of coffee while Paul's back was turned. On the way he crossed paths with Akabane, and the two lovers shared a quick rendezvous before both approaching the booth. Their brief kiss of greeting was chaste, as befitting Akabane's standards of public behavior, but the way their eyes met, and held, was rife with deep unspoken affection. Himiko couldn't help but smile as she watched them. Sometimes it was what was not said that hinted at the greatest meaning for a couple.

Today Akabane exhibited a cheer not unlike his usual demeanor, except that the edges of his smile kept quirking upwards the way it was wont to do whenever he knew something of vital importance that others did not. It was very like Akabane to hug special knowledge to himself as closely as one might clutch a precious treasure, waiting for just the right moment to spring the surprise. In this he could be callous, Himiko knew – she'd wanted to slap him senseless after finding out about his side-trip 'assignment' during the IL mission – but there was never any deliberate cruelty behind his actions, merely the cool aloofness of one who goes about his own business without regard to conventional rules or rhymes.

Himiko allowed him a few moments of smile as he slipped into their booth, next to Ban. Ignoring Ginji's squeak of fright, she locked gazes with Akabane and said, "Spill it."

Her fellow transporter's smile widened. "Why, Himiko-san, whatever makes you think that I have something to hide?"

"I know that Cheshire-cat grin of yours. Something's caught your interest and I want to know what it is."

Akabane made a happy sigh. "It would seem that there is no fooling you, Himiko-san." He scooted in closer, clasping his hands together with delight. "Midou-kun is taking me to see Europe."

Ginji momentarily forgot his skittishness. "Europe? Cool!"

"What? When?" Himiko shot Ban a glare. "How're you going to afford a trip like that?"

"Whole lotta recovery jobs," Ban said, and grimaced. "Hevn's got us on retainer for the next several months."

"We're planning to leave next spring. We made an agreement," Akabane explained, patting Ban's arm. "He'll work on avoiding unnecessary expenses, and I promised not to kill anyone between now and the time of our trip. Unless it happens to be self-defense, of course," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"And it better be a damn good reason for self-defense," Ban put in, raising a brow in warning. He and Himiko exchanged wry but knowing looks: the opponents who could send Jackal on the run were far and few between.

Akabane gave them a mock pout. "I'll remember that the next time you ask me to accompany you here, Midou-kun. I think perhaps a cut in pizza allowance is necessary – "

"Touch my pizza and you'll be using those scalpels of yours as tongue depressors," Ban snapped. "Pizza is essential nutrition for life. As is coffee. Fuck with either of those and pay the price."

"Pizza is the food of the gods," Ginji agreed solemnly.

"Won't you get in trouble if you go back to Europe?" Himiko reminded Ban.

He just shrugged. "Probably."

Himiko stared at him. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Ban pushed his glasses higher up on his nose. "What else do I do? I'm not going to worry about it until it happens."

"You're insane."

"I prefer the term 'mentally superior.'" Ban flashed her one of his cheeky grins. "Seriously, Himiko, there's nothing I can do about that, so why let it get in the way of a good time? I know what precautions to take and where to avoid the worst of the bunch. If we run into trouble, we'll deal with it."

"But these people want to kill you," Himiko stressed.

Ban raised a brow in mock surprise. "Give the girl a ribbon for perception! And how is this any different than from what I go through as a retriever?"

Himiko hissed, ready to throw up her hands in frustration – until Akabane leaned across the table, gently patting her shoulder. "Don't pick on her, Ban-kun," he scolded affectionately. "Himiko-san is right to be concerned for your well-being." He smiled at Himiko. "Don't worry, Himiko-san. I've thought of this, and I've made arrangements. Would you like to see them?"

"Sure."

"Wonderful." Akabane turned to his mate. "Is the tab settled, or must I intervene on your behalf and spare you from Wan-san's wrath today?"

"Well, I had some spare change, but since you're offering..." Ban waggled his eyebrows, pleased with such an easy opportunity.

Akabane's smile was leavened with genial assurance, and Himiko wondered what price Ban would ultimately end up paying for this generosity. Akabane was not one to suffer fools, even coming from his lover. As their cohort got up to pay the bill for the Get Backers' table, she said quietly, "Have you told him yet?"

"Told him what?"

Ginji spoke for her. "You know, Ban-chan," he hissed under his breath, keeping a wary eye on Akabane's black-clad form at the counter while the other transporter conversed with Paul. "Akabane-san's mom was in here again!"

Ban steepled his fingers together and narrowed his eyes. "Not yet. Not yet. There's a time and a place for everything, you know."

"The longer you keep it from him, the greater the chance that he's going to find out for himself," Himiko pointed out. She, like the others, was curious about the woman who had brought Doctor Jackal into the world. She'd not yet met Akane Akabane, but the descriptions provided by both Ban and Ginji had sparked her interest. "And once he does, I don't think I'd want to be in your shoes, Ban."

"Relax. Kuroudo will be too floored to get pissed at me for keeping it a secret. Besides, he's got the shock of his life coming after that stunt you guys pulled by springing Sabrina on me." Ban's wicked chuckle turned over in his throat. "What goes around comes around..."

"Ban-chan," Ginji shushed, hastily poking him in the arm.

Akabane returned to the booth a second later, having paid Paul. "Shall we adjourn to our place then? I can't wait to show you my surprise."

"That makes two of us," Ban cackled softly to Himiko as they filed out of the Honky Tonk.

--

"A box," Himiko said when they were all gathered in Akabane's and Ban's apartment, staring at the collection that Akabane had produced from behind the couch and was set to open. She elbowed Ban in the side. "You dragged me all the way up here to look at a box?"

"Stuff it, brat, or I'll stuff you _in_ it," Ban retorted. "Hasn't anybody ever told you that good things can come in small packages?"

"So does poison," Himiko shot back, ready to continue the squabble until a gentle clearing of throat drew their attention.

"The witch-hunters will be looking for someone who fits Midou-kun's description," Akabane explained as he unfolded the box's flaps and took out several items. "Therefore, it follows that the most logical course of action is to alter that factor."

"Disguises!" Ginji piped up through a mouthful of cookies that Akabane had offered everyone.

Akabane nodded approval. "Exactly." He handed a much smaller box to Ban. "I know you don't usually like to, but I think it would be best if you wore your hair down for a change. The less you stand out, the better, hmm?"

"I guess I can do that." Ban looked at the carton he'd been handed. "And wear this goop?" He made a face at the black hair dye. "Couldn't you at least have gotten something semi-permanent? This shit'll take months to wear out."

Akabane gave him an apologetic little shrug. "It was all I could find on short notice. Besides, if I'd gotten anything weaker, it might not have lasted long enough for the duration of our trip."

"You'll look really cool, Ban-chan," Ginji assured his still-doubtful friend.

"There's more," Akabane said, looking pleased.

"I draw the line at plastic surgery," Ban declared, setting the box of hair color aside. "We talked about what you could and could not do with those scalpels of yours, remember?"

"Maybe a mouth tuck would be an improvement," Himiko needled, smirking at the glare Ban shot her.

"I had less extensive alterations in mind," Akabane agreed with a chuckle, raising a little plastic case. He passed this to Ban, who opened it and scowled.

"Do I have to?"

Himiko leaned closer to see. "It makes sense, Ban. I think you should."

"When I want your opinion, I'll rattle your cage."

"You – "

"Neat!" Ginji said from where he was hovering over Ban's shoulder. "Ban-chan can change eye color!"

Akabane beamed, happy that his plans were being (mostly) well-received. "They'll be looking for someone with blue eyes. If you have brown ones, it will make it that much harder for them to track you."

"I hate contacts," Ban muttered, snapping the case shut. "Damn things make my eyes water."

"These shouldn't cause much discomfort," Akabane assured him. "I spoke with the very best optician I could find." He smiled, and added, "You'll still be able to use your Jagan if the need arises, I presume?"

"Yeah, that's not a problem." Ban sighed.

"Excellent. Makubex-kun is going to arrange for an alias for you as well, so you needn't worry about being discovered through your real name. We'll have all the proper documentation when it comes time to present our travel papers."

"I get a new name, too? You're really pulling out all the stops." Ban eyed him suspiciously. "It better not be anything stupid."

Akabane smiled and shook his head. "I stressed to Makubex-kun the importance of choosing names that would be pleasing as well as inconspicuous."

Himiko was curious. "So what did you pick?"

"I thought that we should have something simple, elegant. One can't go wrong with the classics," Akabane said, looking every bit the satisfied hunter. "We'll be traveling as Ken Jacquel and Ban Serpentico."

"What?!" Ban spluttered. "What the hell possessed you to choose those? You might pass as barely French, but I don't have a drop of Italian in me!"

Ginji bounced on the sofa. "Not to mention that your last name has a snake in it."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Ban groaned. He pointed at Akabane. "That takes care of me, then, I guess. But what about you?"

Puzzled, Akabane tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"What are you gonna do about that awning over your head?"

"What about it?" Akabane asked, smile shrinking and eyes narrowing.

"Come on, Kuroudo. As big as that thing is, it'll draw attention like flies to shit. Ditch it," Ban stated.

Akabane shrank back as if his lover had just suggested that he set it on fire. "I will do no such thing!" he said imperiously.

Himiko looked between the two men. "I hate to admit it, but he's right, Akabane. It's too obvious, and you stand out enough as it is with that long coat."

Akabane glared purple betrayal at her.

"Fair's fair," Ban pointed out. "If I have to color my hair and wear annoying contacts, you have to give up your hat. Didn't you just say that the less noticeable we are, the better?"

"It isn't that noticeable," Akabane complained, pulling it lower on his head as he clutched at the brim as protectively as a belligerent child might grasp a favorite toy. "Lots of people wear hats in public."

"Not any that look like a UFO is orbiting your head," Ban said. "If the brim was smaller it wouldn't be such a problem." He paused, then added, "You could always – "

"Out of the question," Akabane snapped. "One missing piece is more than enough." He fingered the pie-shaped slice missing from one section, put there from a past fight with Kagami.

"Be reasonable, Akabane," Himiko said. "You don't want people recognizing it and coming after you and Ban, do you?"

He looked conflicted. Attracting unwelcome attention meant a fight and possibly fun, but on the other hand he wasn't keen on drawing his lover into a situation that promised harm to him. "Of course not!"

"Well, then, don't wear the hat. It draws too much attention."

"But I _like_ it," Akabane growled.

"It's two against one, Jackal," Ban said, merciless as ever. "The hat goes. End of story."

Scalpels bristled. "The hat _stays,_ Midou-kun. That's _my_ final word on the matter."

"Don't be such a baby!" Himiko told Akabane. "You can wear other hats, you know!"

"I _beg_ your pardon, Himiko-san?!"

Ban smirked. "Gotta love that 'ol Midou family bond, eh? We stick together." He ignored Himiko when she half-heartedly punched him in the arm.

Akabane scowled at them. "I think we should get another opinion." He smiled expectantly at a now-quivering Ginji. "Ginji-kun? What do you think?"

"Yeah, Ginji, what do _you_ think?" Ban asked, blatantly cracking the knuckles of his right hand.

"That's not fair!" Himiko pointed out. "His answer's only coming under duress."

"It's still an answer," Ban said. He swatted his partner. "Well? Am I right, or what?"

"Well…uhh…" Ginji trembled, eyes darting from Ban to Akabane. "It kinda does make sense, but I totally understand why Akabane-san wants to keep his hat…"

"There, you see?" Akabane smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you, Ginji-kun."

"Traitor," Ban snarled, aiming a fist at Ginji's head, and missing when the other ducked the blow. "The Get Backers don't tolerate mutiny in the ranks!"

"Sorry, Ban-chan," Ginji said sheepishly. "Akabane-san wins because he has the sharpies."

"Clearly," Akabane said, grinning as he fanned out his knives in one hand.

"You still have a stalemate," Himiko groaned.

"So? We just call up somebody," Ban said. "Paul'll weigh in."

Himiko shook her head. "Biased source. Try again."

"Call Maguruma," Akabane suggested. "He's a sensible man. I'm sure he'd be glad to help us resolve this issue."

"Oh no!" Ban said. "You talk about biased? Extra transporters don't count!"

Himiko tilted her head thoughtfully. "He has a point, Ban. Maguruma's not really bound to any one side. And he is fair…"

"He did help us move the Marlin Red even though he didn't have to, Ban-chan," Ginji added.

Ban raised a brow. "That's true." He waved a hand. "All right, dial him up." His expression made clear that he didn't believe the third transporter could be an impartial judge.

Himiko did so. While she explained the situation to Mr. No-Brakes, Akabane shot his lover a smug look. "You'll see, Midou-kun. Maguruma is very wise when it comes to respecting others' personal boundaries." Still smiling, he accepted the phone from Himiko as she passed it to him. "Hello, Gouzou. What do you think about all of this?"

Everyone watched as that smile suddenly vanished like smoke in wind. "I hate you, Gouzou," Akabane hissed into the phone before slapping it shut.

Himiko suppressed a chuckle as she took her phone back. A triumphant Ban nodded at him. Ginji offered an apologetic shrug.

A thin whine rumbled in Akabane's throat. Slowly, ever so slowly, he reached up and took down his hat. He pressed it to his chest in both arms, looking up at its detractors with a full force pout resembling that of a just-kicked puppy.

Ban got up from the couch and slung an arm around his jackal's shoulders. "I'll buy you a nice beret when we go to France," he said with a consoling wink.

Akabane was having none of these reconciliatory efforts. He glared at Ban and raised a fist. A scalpel shot up from between his ring and middle fingers, the perfect substitute for a particular gesture. "You sleep on the couch tonight!" Still sulking, he stalked off to their bedroom, beloved hat in tow.

Ginji winced. "Ouch."

"That's got to hurt," Himiko agreed, secretly amused that Ban had gotten his comeuppance for the evening.

"Shut up, morons," Ban snapped.

--

The next day at the Honky Tonk granted Himiko another unexpected insight into her half-brother's and partner's unique relationship. Ban was there, but for him it was just business as usual; the shop was practically his and Ginji's second home, no doubt much to Paul Wan's eternal chagrin. She was there for breakfast: the place was a convenient stop on her way to a job.

Natsumi bounced over to take her order, cheerful as ever – sometimes Himiko looked at the girl who shared an age with her and wondered if she herself had ever been that carefree, that secure and content in the world. A part of her supposed she must have, because the scant mementos she'd saved showed a younger, happier Himiko with no trace of the solemn fighter she was today. But anymore it was like looking at pictures of a stranger, one who had lived a life she herself could not remember having experienced, except through painful flashbacks of outstanding dreams.

Himiko glanced over to where Ban was parked at the counter, chatting with someone on his cell. She had to remind herself that he hadn't exactly had it all peaches and cream either. His casual joviality and his easy posture belied the ever-watchful gleam in his eyes as he periodically scanned the surroundings, and the carefully coiled tension in his body hinted at devastation that he could unleash without warning. It did not fail to escape her notice that he had deliberately chosen a spot at the counter where he could sit with his back protected.

Once she wouldn't have cared; she might have even hoped for his downfall. Now she wished that his back would always be guarded. With Akabane as companion and Ginji as partner, she had little doubt that it would be.

He spotted her and gestured for her to join him, so she moved down a few stools to sit beside him while she waited for her food. Whoever he was talking to on the phone must have been an important client, because he was being far more deferential than usual, speaking in a soothing tone. "I know, I know. But trust me, timing is everything," he was saying, not sounding too put out about having to bring to bear what manners he possessed. "Believe me, it will be well worth the wait once you're reunited."

Ban paused to take a drag of his smoldering cigarette, holding his fingers over the phone's mouthpiece as he did. "What? No, that was just the wind. Honest. Relax, Akane, Paul keeps this place in top shape. You were here, you saw for yourself how nice it is."

Himiko's ears perked up at the mention of a woman's name. He was talking with Akabane's mother? She felt somewhat jealous that he was one of a select few who had met the matriarch. Curiosity nibbled at her again and she wondered not for the first time what Akabane's mother must be like. Ban and Ginji had described her physically, so she had some vague idea of what the woman looked like, but Himiko still found it difficult to form a more concrete picture of Akane Paniwi Nebt-het Akabane.

She wondered if the transporter himself had ever given much thought to his relative, or to any other blood kin he might possess. Until now the thought of Akabane having a family of his own had been alien, the way that the ancients would once have never thought that the planets revolved around the sun instead of the other way around. Now that the suspense of the surprise was building, Himiko was morbidly fascinated by the prospect of getting a rare window into her secretive cohort's world.

"Okay. I getcha. Listen, somebody's here to meet with me, so I gotta go. I'll see you later, okay? I know. I promise, Akane. No, I haven't had a smoke this morning. I will. Yeah. Okay. I'll talk to you later."

Ban carefully closed his phone and then slapped it on the counter. "God _damn,_ that woman is persistent! Jeez, if I'm going to have another nag on my back I might as well just Snakebite myself and call it a day! Can't a man enjoy his vices without interference!?"

"Not a fan of your cigarettes, is she?" Himiko said with a smile.

"Are you kidding?" Ban took her hand and guided it to the back of his head. "Feel that. Yeah. That's where she made clear her opinion of 'em the other day when Ginji and I drove downtown to meet her for lunch." He snorted. "She's twice as bad as Kuroudo is!"

"Well, you can't say that she doesn't have a point," Himiko said, raising a brow as she traced the lump on his head again. "What's she like? And when are you going to bring her and Akabane together?"

"The answers are indescribable, and this afternoon when I pick her up and bring her over." Ban rubbed his forehead as he rolled out a yawn. "Akabane's getting out early from client negotiations, so I figure that should be a good time to broadside him. He'll be nice and relaxed and happy, too preoccupied to deal me any Js for holding back." He cackled and slapped his hands together. "This is gonna be good!"

"What time?" Himiko demanded. "I have to finish a small job this morning, but I want to be here for that reunion."

"About two," Ban said amidst the arrival of food. "By all means, get here early for the fireworks. The more people around, the safer my ass. Akabane's not big on causing public squalls. Good manners and all that crap." He grinned.

She poked him in the arm. "You haven't answered my first question. What's Akane like?"

Ban shrugged. "Hard to say. You'll know it when you see her. Best I can describe it as, think Akabane, then multiply that by about ten and throw in some flesh-melting hot peppers. She can hold her own, that's for sure."

Himiko frowned as she dug into her breakfast. "Including the penchant for death."

Ban wiggled his brows. "Oh yah."

"You're telling me that an elder woman who is probably no bigger than Paul's waitress is at least as deadly as my homicidally-hungry partner."

"At least. Probably quadruple that, if you want my opinion." Ban nodded at her. "Hey, I'm a witch, Himiko. I know serious shit when I see it, and trust me, you do _not_ want to cross this woman. I'm still not sure how she's going to take me and her son being an item. Desert-bred folks aren't typically big on two guys in the same boat, if you get my drift."

"She seemed nice enough when Ginji met her," Himiko said around a mouthful of scrambled egg. "Has she been here in the country all along, or did she come from overseas?"

"My understanding so far is that she was born and grew up in the Middle East. Egypt, to be precise." Ban scowled at the nub that was now his cigarette, and stubbed it out before lighting up a new one. "Apparently Akabane's dad was mixed nationality, not full Japanese. Part English, I think. That'd explain the strictness," he muttered to himself. "Anyway. He came over on a trip, met Akane, they did the horizontal tango and voila', Kuroudo the Jackal was the result. Papa wanted to go back east, but Akane wanted to stay put till her baby boy was older. So they compromised. She stayed in Egypt with Kuroudo, and her husband shuttled back and forth setting things up here in preparation for his new family."

"What happened to separate them?" Himiko asked.

"I'm getting to that." Ban inhaled a fresh wave of nicotine. "Somewhere along the line Akabane's father's family got wind of the situation and they weren't pleased with it. They wanted him to marry someone they approved of, and he wasn't having any of it. Couple of them went out west to try and talk him out of it, and in the middle of this Akane got seriously ill. I'm not too clear on what happened, but it sounds like she was pregnant again and wound up miscarrying because of all the stress. She fell into a coma, actually, and the nosy relatives took it upon themselves to drag Akabane off and try to bring him up their way."

Himiko's frown matched his now. She felt a pang of sympathy for her transport partner; being a pawn in the middle of a family feud couldn't have been any easy thing. It made her think of the time she'd worked on a job for a family that was quarreling over an infant's fate. "I don't imagine that went over well."

"It didn't," Ban confirmed. "Akabane's father was pissed as hell and cut off the bulk of his relatives permanently. And by that I don't mean he actually whipped out a knife," he chuckled, seeing the look on Himiko's face at his choice of words. "He was the eldest, but not the favorite, so he wound up forfeiting a sizable inheritance when he split. But he had a younger brother who was sympathetic, so he wasn't left completely destitute. And he made good bank on his own."

"What happened to Akane?"

"Well, she was stuck in that coma so she couldn't do a damn thing till the whole feud had blown over and she eventually recovered. By that time Akabane's father had been told by his asshole relatives that she was dead, and he and Kuroudo were living in England. Whoever it was that meddled must have done a damned good job of covering tracks, because it took Akane decades to locate Akabane, and she went through a ton of private investigators before she landed on us."

Himiko gasped. "You mean - "

"Yep." Ban flashed her a wry smirk. "She had a relatively recent photo one investigator had found for her, so she was going around the area asking people if they knew her son. Me and Ginji were casing the same area one day and I bumped into her. I mean, I literally bumped into her. Himiko, I thought I was gonna have a coronary on the spot when I looked into those purple eyes, because I just _knew_ who she was before she ever stated her name." He laughed. "Funny how life works. I told her to come down to the Honky Tonk and sooner or later she'd find Akabane."

"Why didn't you just introduce them straight off instead of playing this cat-and-mouse game? I would think that this Akane's not one to wait when she wants something."

"And you'd be right," Ban told her. "But once you meet her, you'll understand. She's just like he is, a sense for timing and protocol. It wasn't hard persuading her to do it my way."

"You sneaky bastard," Himiko said slowly, feeling rather envious of his ability to tweak precarious situations in his favor. "I still say Akabane's going to be mad when he finds out you knew the whole time and didn't tell him."

"Eh, he deserves a little grief every now and then. Keeps him on his toes. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and a mom for a mom." Ban winked at her. "Trust me, it's good for him. Teaches him how to be human again." He snuffed out the dwindling cigarette and took a sip of his coffee. "Besides, I think he misses her, even if he won't admit it. He's not big on talking about his past, you know."

"Oh, I know," Himiko said. "Getting more than two words out of Jackal when I first met him was like pulling teeth from cement. I had to let him warm up on his own accord, and even then that wasn't saying much."

Ban nodded. "Part of it is just natural for Akabane, I think. He's a reserved type, bottles up all his emotions inside. Never let 'em see you bleed, or at least smile through it, you know? I can appreciate that. But whatever it was that he went through in his history did a number on him, so now we're just trying to make up for lost time."

"You mean what turned him to become a transporter and kill for pleasure," Himiko said softly. At this reminder of Akabane's less pleasing traits, she no longer felt hungry, and pushed her half-eaten meal aside.

Ban sighed. "Yeah. War fucks you up, Himiko. Don't ever forget that. I've seen some things in my time, but the one thing I was always grateful to the old bat for was keeping me out of that kind of insanity."

"I don't know," Himiko said. "I can't picture Akabane as a soldier, even with his battle acumen and bloody cravings. Or were those the results of his experience?"

"More than likely. He didn't go there as a soldier, at least not initially. He was still a practicing physician at that point." Ban paused. "He ever mention anything about it to you?"

"No. But that pipa player, the elder chief of the seven, what was he called - "

"Semimaru Kanade."

"Yes. Ginji said he was awfully familiar with Akabane when they met."

"That's because they were." Ban hesitated as he chose his words. "They were on the same battlefield when Semimaru's kid was killed years ago. Akabane was the doctor who tried to treat him."

"Oh no," Himiko whispered, again feeling a crack in her heart widen.

"Yeah." Ban drank more coffee. "Kuroudo took it pretty hard. Especially when Semimaru took out his own grief on him. They'd been longtime friends." He paused. "It was kind of like you and me."

Tears suddenly stung Himiko's eyes. She knew Ban hadn't said that to guilt-trip her, but all just the same, she felt ashamed of the vicious accusations and cruel attacks she'd once hurled at him.

"Don't second-guess yourself, kiddo," Ban said, as if he'd read her mind. "You couldn't have known, and if I had been in your shoes I'd have reacted the same way. What's done is past. No point rehashing it."

"I still wish we could have kept that trust unharmed between us," she said, blinking back her sorrow and guilt. So much time, so much life...wasted...

Ban reached out and ruffled her hair with a wan smile. "I know. Me too. But hey, look at it this way. We're stronger for it now, at least I hope we are. Believe me, if I could have done anything but that, anything that could have spared Yamato and taken me instead, I would have without thinking twice."

"I know that, now," Himiko said. "It just took me a long time to reconcile that, I guess. But sometimes I think that maybe a part of me won't ever fully accept it, even knowing what I do now. I'm not proud of that," she quickly added.

"It's okay," Ban assured her. "I'd be more worried for you if you were taking it any better. Normally I'm not a fan of brainwashing, but if that computer kid ever figures out a way to wipe flesh and blood minds, I'd seriously consider having him take out that one moment from my head. I can live with the rest of it, everything that happened afterward, because I deserve that, for what it did to you. But that one bit..." He shuddered. "Death might not be the end, but it's not a trip anybody wants to take prematurely, that I can assure you."

Himiko studied him. "Is that why you took up with Akabane? You want to save him from himself. But what if he doesn't want to be saved?"

Ban thought this over. "It's part pride, I'll admit it. I figure if Ginji can get people to do a 180, so can I, if I work at it enough. But...it's hard to explain," he said slowly. "I didn't care for Jackal when I first met him, but when I got to know him better...he just sort of grows on you before you know it," he said, twisting his hands in the air as he sought words to define his relationship. "He once accused me of being in denial about what we had in common, and I realized later that he was right. Even though we were operating from different sides of the fence, he got me to see that I was ignoring my own issues. That was a bitter pill to swallow, yeah, but I sucked it up somehow, and I know the only reason I was able to do that was because Ginji had taught me that there was more to life than the crazy wacko shit I'd faced up until that point. I don't think that Akabane's ever had that kind of support."

Himiko chewed idly on her thumb. "You love him, don't you."

Ban rested his head on his hand as he leaned against the counter. "Like I said – he grows on you."

She sighed, more exasperation this time. "Can't anybody ever give me a straight answer?"

He lightly socked her shoulder. "Yes, if it makes you feel better, I do. Okay? I want to give Kuroudo something as valuable as he's given me, something that will change his life the way that he and Ginji have helped change mine. It's not just that, either. There's a real human being in there, Himiko, and whatever else he is, Akabane's a wealth of untapped humanity if you can play it just right. I can't say that I ever pictured myself shackled with another guy, but this is how it turned out, and I won't deny that I'm enjoying myself more than I ever expected to." He hesitated, then added, "Even if the bastard does drive me nuts more than half the time."

"Because he grows on you," Himiko said, a small smile coming to her face as she thought of how she'd come to like her mercurial cohort in spite of his homicidal habits. Akabane, when he was not intent on shedding blood, was actually a very gracious and amiable man to be around, albeit one who preferred the luxury of distance in any relationship. And even when he was in the midst of a fight, he displayed an uncommon if peculiar honor most fighters in his place wouldn't have entertained for two seconds. She could respect that much, at least.

"You got it, kid." Ban smiled back momentarily before dropping back into serious thought. "As for the rest...you're right, Akabane's got to want to save himself. But I'm doing my damnedest to _make_ him want it, more than anything he's ever wanted before. Because not only do I want him to want to be alive, I want _him_ - for myself. He's a part of me now, for better or worse." Ban tapped his left pectoral. "And I _always_ get back my own."

"For what it's worth," Himiko said, after a brief silence, "I think you're doing a great job. Both of you. I mean that. I've noticed real differences in you two ever since you committed to one another."

Ban looked pleased by that. "It's not perfect. It'll never be perfect; no relationship can survive that standard. But it's damn near that and that's good enough for me, and Akabane too." He watched while Natsumi cleared away their dishes and poured him a new cup of coffee, after a subtle nod from Paul indicated that Ban's tab was in acceptable standing. "Shit. Let's can the serious talk. You ever hear about the time that Akabane got held up at gunpoint at the bank?"

"What? I never heard anything like that from him!"

"You haven't?" Ban chortled as he spun on his seat to face her. "Oho! This is classic."

"So tell me!" Himiko aimed a punch at his face, which he ably blocked.

"It's a good one. Okay, a couple months ago Akabane went down to our bank to make a deposit that I asked him to. While he's waiting in line this jerkoff storms in with a gun, pulls the manager aside and says that he's robbing the joint so nobody better move. A teller trips the silent alarm that calls emergency services, so about five minutes after this guy's ordered the employees to start filling a bag with money the whole outside is swarming with cops."

"But by that time the robber's dead," Himiko guessed.

"No! That's what makes it so funny," Ban started laughing. "See, the guy hadn't directly challenged Akabane yet. The manager made the announcement that they were being robbed and people were to do as they were told for safety's sake. So Akabane's just standing there like everybody else, watching what's going on and wondering when the hell's he going to get a chance to do something or go home. Now the robber - " Ban was laughing harder now as he tried to get the words out. "The robber – he sees the squads outside – he decides his only way out is to take a hostage - "

"No way! Never in a million years!"

"Swear to God, Himiko, I'm not making this up. The robber comes up to Akabane, asks him if he'd do him a favor, and Akabane says yes because he's such a sucker for politeness. They go to the front entrance, and the robber tells the fifty or so cops that are parked outside waiting that he's got a hostage, and if they attack he'll shoot. So they have to back off, because they don't know what's going on, they have to err on the side of caution."

"And that's when Akabane dispatched him!" Himiko said.

"No! No! It's better!" Ban insisted. "They're slipping out the back exit into the alley with the stolen money when some street thug finds them, and _this guy_ tries to rob the first thief! Only he's more in your face about it, so Akabane gets into it with him and boom, that guy's a stain on the ground. First guy sees all this - " he had to pause to get several breaths of air, so hard was he laughing by now - "and he knows Doctor Jackal's reputation, so he puts two and two together and takes off running down the street screaming like a madman!"

Himiko was laughing as hard as he was. "That didn't last long, I'll bet! Nobody can outrun Akabane!"

"But you haven't heard the best part!" Ban was grinning like a fiend. He wiped his eyes. "The guy didn't escape, but it's not what you're thinking. He was picked up by the cops not half a block away from the bank. He _begged_ them to take him away from a certain transporter who was chasing him with the bag he'd left behind! Akabane goes right up to the back of the squad car where this guy's shitting bricks in his pants and says, sweet as pie - " Ban gulped more air down, timing his punchline. "'Excuse me, sir, you forgot your money.'"

They howled and beat the counter with flattened palms. "Oh my God! That's Akabane, all right!" Himiko groaned and rubbed her tear-soaked eyes.

"And that's really why I keep my Kuroudo around," Ban snickered as he brushed away more of his own laughter-induced tears. "Life is never boring when you're sleeping with a Jackal in the den."

"Must be twice as exciting, bringing a Jackal's mother into the mix," Himiko grinned. She fished out money to pay for her food. "I have to go – work. Let me know when you have Akane. I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

Ban high-fived her on the way out. "You and me both, squirt!"

--

TBC


	40. Stairway To Heaven part 2

Title: Stairway To Heaven (ch. 2)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #22 – "cradle"

Rating: PG-13 (language, m/m)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor ones for basic canon.

Notes: The tarot used is the standard deck; I tweaked it a little to provide suitable drama for Himiko's reading. ;)  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Akane Akabane though, is my own invention.  
Summary: Himiko reflects on the mysterious no-man's land that brought Ban and Akabane together, and a new path revealed sets into motion a revolution that will change everyone's lives forever.

--

Had Himiko only known what was in store for her upon her return to the Honky Tonk she might have reconsidered her eagerness to bear witness to the grand unveiling of Akabane's mother. But as it was she was running late from her job – the client had insisted on treating her to tea afterward, and since he was important enough that appearances mattered, she'd had to humor him – and she was barreling down the road on her bike, breaking more than a few speed limits and risking further delay by traffic cop. She was determined not to miss out on the excitement this time.

There was little chance of that, she realized when she walked into the shop and instant chaos engulfed her. The Honky Tonk was a powder keg of battle, due in no small part to Ban and Shido Fuyuki, who were trading barbs and blows almost as fast as Ginji was rushing between them trying to get them to calm down, without much success. Natsumi and Rena, Paul's waitresses, were huddled in one corner giving the scene – which included more than a few busted dishes - wide eyes. Paul himself was crouching behind his counter, a grimace on his face attesting to his indecision as to whether his intervention would break up the fight or make it worse.

Kazuki Fuuchouin was sitting in one booth looking rather dazed. He was holding what appeared to be the shredded remains of some of his threads. Emishi Haruki hadn't fared as well; he was squirming at Kazuki's feet in the solid bounds of his own whip. Juubei Kakei was pinned to the wall by his flying needles in a rather undignified spreadeagled position.

Hevn the negotiator caught Himiko's arm as she gingerly waded into the fray. "I wouldn't if I were you," she hissed, dragging the transporter to a safer corner of the shop. "You're liable to perfume yourself to death if that woman mistakes you for an enemy! She's some kind of witch, I swear!"

"What!?"

Hevn nudged her. "There."

Himiko glanced towards the middle of the room where Ban and Shido were holding fisticuffs. Sitting at a table in the center of the fight-ring, looking for all the world a serene and perfect picture of zen incarnate, was the guest of honor whom everyone had come to see. Akane Paniwi Nebt-het Akabane's sharp purple eyes flicked once, twice, over the two men brawling. She quietly got to her feet, pulling every diminutive inch of herself straight as an arrow into full height, smoothed her birdlike hands down the front of her gray linen dress, and marched right in between Ban and Shido.

"Oh God, Ban - " Himiko started to bolt for him to head off the collision she knew was coming, but Hevn held fast to her arm.

"Watch!" the negotiator whispered.

Ginji had had the same impulse as Himiko; unlike her he wasn't able to check himself in time and he stepped right into Akane's path. Before he could get one word out she held up her hand and made a slight flicking motion with her fingers. The next thing Himiko knew Ban and Shido had both gone flying across the room, though in opposite directions.

Ginji goggled at the sight and promptly retreated under the nearest booth's table. Even he knew when to back off.

Akane was smiling but the expression wasn't reaching her eyes. Himiko recognized the same steel intent as what Akabane often displayed when an opponent was annoying him. A shiver pricked the hairs on her arms as she realized what Ban had meant when he'd said earlier that she'd know what the woman was like when the time came. This was the unmistakable authority of someone who had lived and breathed pure power her entire life.

"You." Her voice was low, mellifluous, cut in the same vein as Akabane's but with a distinctly feminine timbre. "And you. You stop this now."

Shido was picking himself up off the floor by the front entrance. He was staring at Akane with a horror even greater than that he usually reserved for the times Madoka made an intimate request of him.

At the other end, Ban was shaking himself like a belligerent bull, looking stunned but not entirely surprised by the arcane backhand he'd just been dealt. "He started it," he grumbled, pointing at his archrival.

"You lying snake bastard! You're the guilty one and you know it!"

Akane raised her hand again and snapped her fingers. Ban and Shido both jerked backwards, making incoherent grunting noises, and when Shido turned towards Himiko she saw that his lips had been sealed shut.

"No matter who started. You end. Now," Akane warned, her accented voice chipping into colder territory when either of them made like they were going to protest. "See your friends?" She gestured to a wary threadmaster and his kin. "Smart boys. They know when not to argue! You be smart too and pick yourselves up. Such mess!" She clucked her tongue. "What will my son think when he comes?"

"Are you kidding, he'd be right there in the thick of it if he could," Shido muttered when the silencing spell had been repealed.

Akane's eyes narrowed. "What?"

Ban's face curdled into wickedness. "Monkey boy here was just saying that he should've known better than to spoil such an important reunion with his big mouth. Right, Fuyuki?"

Akane raised a brow at Shido, who was biting back a mountain of curses he badly wanted to hurl at Ban. Instead Shido gulped down a heap of pride and grumbled, "Yeah, yeah." Better to admit defeat and steal away to lick one's wounds than press the case too far and wind up in worse straits.

Kazuki was tiptoeing closer to Himiko. She met him halfway. "I can't believe she _melted_ my threads!" he half-hissed half-whispered to her. "Nobody's ever done that before! Except for you," he added, remembering the damage Himiko's flame perfume nearly did to him once in Mugenjou.

"Um, a little help here would be nice," Emishi called out from his spot on the floor.

Akane glanced at the others and made a dismissive motion with her hand. Emishi and Juubei were subsequently freed from their respective bonds. "Behave," she told them.

"Yes ma'am," Emishi answered. For once his tone wasn't flippant, and he refrained from cracking any jokes about whips and being all tied up. Being almost throttled by his own weapon must have spooked some sense into him.

Juubei said nothing, only moved to stand behind Kazuki. His hands fumbled for a moment as he tried to decide whether to remain on alert or err on the side of caution to avoid further provocation. Himiko guessed that he hadn't been one of the first to throw any punches; he'd most likely incurred his punishment from misinterpreting an action as threatening to Kazuki.

Akane looked around the room, satisfied that the fight was concluded. She lifted her chin a notch and Natsumi and Rena promptly scurried over, dustpans and brooms in hand, to clean up the scattered debris. Akane turned her head a mere slight at Paul and he was hurrying forward with cups of fresh coffee in both hands, carefully ushering her to a seat at one of the back booths and cautiously inquiring if she would like anything to go with her drink. As soon as an order had been placed he shot off for the kitchen, clearly relieved to have something to do elsewhere.

Himiko blinked. She didn't think she'd ever seen the shopmaster act that deferential towards any customer he'd had. Usually Paul Wan ruled his cafe with an iron fist.

"I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it," Hevn murmured near her ear. "She's really Doctor Jackal's mother?"

"Are you going to question her after that?" Himiko responded. Without waiting for an answer she stalked over to Ban and boxed him soundly on the side of his head. "What did you do!"

"Damn! One beatdown a day is more than enough, thanks!" He rubbed his face. "I didn't do anything! That idiot - " he jerked a thumb at a glaring Shido - "opens up his trap and the next thing I know I'm in the middle of a four-ring circus with a couple of failed clowns!" Ban ignored the sour look he got from Emishi at that and called out to Ginji. "Hey Gin, you can come out now. All clear."

Under the table a blond head carefully raised from a curled-up position. "Do I have to?" Ginji whispered, his gaze darting back and forth from Ban to other questionable parties.

Akane answered for his partner. "Gin-ji. Come eat. I order pizza for us!" She patted the top of the table.

"B-B-B-But I'm not h-hungry," Ginji whined as tears leaked from his eyes.

"You wanna make her mad again? Go eat the pizza, chicken-eel," Ban told him. "Never turn down free food when it presents itself!"

"Spoken like a true hog," Himiko said.

"I prefer to think of it as 'gastronome,'" Ban said. "You gonna join us or what?"

"Would've been a fine sight for Akabane to show up and find all this," Himiko said, watching the girls clear away the last of the mess as she followed Ban to the booth. "When's he due?"

"Called him before the free-for-all. He should be here any minute." Ban lightly cuffed her on the back of her head. "You're late, squirt. If you'd gotten here sooner I could've had the pleasure of seeing the monkey king be the one to get smacked around instead of experiencing it for myself. Don't you answer your phone?"

"I couldn't help it," Himiko grumbled, swatting at him. "The job ran later than I expected." She was cut off from saying anything more when Ban suddenly escorted her front and center to the spot across from Akane.

"While we're waiting for Kuroudo to drop by, here's someone you might like to meet. Akane, my half-sister - "

"I know her." Akane's face was impassive as she took in the new arrival with slow precision. Then her gaze suddenly softened to a surprising gentleness. "Daughter." She rose and took Himiko's hands in hers.

At eye level they were the same height. Himiko was startled by the impulse seizing her, that this woman was somehow...known to her, though it was only by impression and not any concrete proof that she could focus on. But some inner awakening told her that this was a spirit ageless, one she was bound to through some as-yet inexplicable twist of fate. She felt as though in the space of a heartbeat she'd been measured, judged and found complete. She wasn't sure what to make of this. "I'm sorry, I'm not – I mean - "

Akane saved her the trouble of immediate pondering. "Child, I recognize a sorceress when I see one." Her smile was broad and genuine. "Your brother is very proud, Himiko-san. He tells me many stories of you, how you work alongside my son Karawan."

Himiko looked to Ban for explanation. "Karawan is what she calls Akabane," he clarified as he scooted into his seat next to a petrified Ginji. "It's an ancient Arabic expression for warding off the evil eye, believe it or not." Ban looked amused by that point.

"Aa, aa," Akane nodded, a few tendrils of silver-streaked dark hair swaying loose from her bun. "That is his birth name. His father calls him Kuroudo," she said, pronouncing the syllables with a halt. In spite of her imperfection with the Japanese language, she spoke it well enough that they had little trouble understanding her. "We decided that he should have names from the places he has lived to guide his path home. He was born during the _Nan Kheper,_ after all."

"Nan keper – what?" Himiko blinked.

"Period of extra time that didn't exist before, but was created for special purpose way back when, after an established timekeeping system had already been set up against total darkness where nothingness ruled," Ban cut in. "It's when the principle gods and goddesses of Egyptian mythology were said to be brought into existence. Magic folk often use the dates as a reference point for spellcasting."

Akane let go of Himiko and steered her into the window seat of the booth before resuming her own place. "Come, sit. We will talk more of my Karawan, aa? And you will tell me what is a 'poison perfume?' Ban-kun is full of mystery! Not good honest boy like partner Gin-ji. He hides too much, always sneaky, says I must wait to see my Karawan!" Akane thumped the tabletop with a dainty fist. "Soon we see if Get Backers deserve reputation - and proper reward."

"Ulp," Ginji managed, no doubt having ascertained in his mind what kind of 'reward' he was expecting to get.

"Sneaky saves the day when you least expect it," an unrepentant Ban told their guest. "And if you think the electric eel over there's honest, you should see him on payday and I send him out to buy ten rolls of beef jerky and he comes back with only four!"

"That because you never feed him enough!" Akane scolded. "Poor boy, always he must fend for himself. No wonder he comes here. Greedy partner hoards everything!"

Himiko liked Akane Akabane. Kindred souls, they called it. She'd been thinking that the woman would be as cool and reserved as Jackal himself, and perhaps she was in her own way, but Himiko remembered Ban's relay about the past. There was plenty of desert spitfire to go around, and for once she didn't mind being called 'child', not when the speaker was addressing her with a kind of reverence that hinted at more than passing acquaintance with Himiko's chosen field.

And, too, Akane, she sensed, was like herself in how she arranged her relationships: formal and politely distant with strangers, relaxed with friends, and fiercely protective towards a select few fortunates. Himiko didn't want to dwell on any darker prospects – if Ban's wrath was devastating when it erupted, and Akabane's fury unfettered once the blade was struck, how much worse was Akane's rage when those calm waters were upset? Like mother, like son indeed. Or daughter-in-spirit, if not in blood...!

Himiko started to explain to Akane what poison perfumes were and how she used them when Ginji suddenly sat up and poked Ban. "Front door," he hissed, his eyes shooting wide, and that was all the alarm that Ban needed.

"Oh is this gonna be sweet. Ginji, you know what to do." He climbed out of his seat and grabbed Himiko's arm. "Come on, half-pint. We're the welcoming committee!"

She would have protested but by then he was hauling her forward, pushing at her back so she had nowhere to retreat. Resigning herself to the impending collision, Himiko set her sights on the approaching figure in black and hoped that today wouldn't be the day when she received a personal demonstration of how those Js were made.

"Kuroudo my boy!" Ban was in his element, working his showmanship abilities for all they were worth. "Have I got a present for you!"

Akabane paused to tip his hat in greeting at Paul Wan and politely request a cup of tea from Natsumi before greeting them. "A present? Why, how kind of you, Ban-kun. Do tell." He smiled at Himiko. "Hello, Himiko-san. I trust that Ban-kun is behaving himself today?"

_If you only knew,_ Himiko thought, trying to keep a burst of laughter from bubbling past her lips. Part of her wanted to blow Ban's surprise out of the water before he had a chance to launch it at his unsuspecting lover, but the other half of her was morbidly curious, and she knew she'd never get to see what she really wanted if she alerted Akabane prematurely to the scheme. Feeling a slight pang of guilt for the deceit she was about to help spring on him, Himiko smiled back.

"As far as I know he hasn't done anything to earn a sharp rebuke from you," she said.

Akabane nodded. "Good. You see, usually whenever Ban-kun has an offering he wishes to make, it means I am about to receive some disappointing news," he murmured, his eyes shifting to a knowing cast upon a grinning Ban.

"Not this time. You'll like this. It's a job, and the client specifically requested you."

Akabane perked up at that – those clients who were familiar with his methods of operation almost always offered stimulating fare. "Interesting. Whom am I to contact?"

"Client's here in the flesh, wanted to meet you in person." Ban paused, working up his _coup de' grace._ "See that lady sitting with Ginij, in the gray dress? Yeah. She has _all _the details," he finished, just barely holding back the cackle threatening to spill into his words.

Himiko glanced over to where he was pointing. Ginji had rearranged their setting so that Akane had her back to the front of the cafe, which shielded her face from immediate discovery and made her look like just another ordinary patron. Sneaky, indeed.

"I see. Well, then. If you will excuse me, it looks like it's time to have some fun," Akabane said, a chipper note to his voice that hadn't been there before, his delight now roused by the prospect of a good battle. He leaned over and kissed Ban's cheek. "Thank you, Ban-kun. I shall have to come up with something properly grateful in return for your lovely gift." He nodded at Himiko. "A good day to you too, Himiko-san."

"Think nothing of it," Ban called after him. "All Jackals need a good workout from time to time." He winked at Himiko and mumbled for her hearing only, "Nothing like a good jolt to the 'ol ticker to keep the bloodlines running, eh?"

They inched towards the back booth, and the rest of the Honky Tonk fidgeted in place as everyone watched, caught between a helpless fascination and a swiftly mounting unease. Shido in particular was edging closer to the front door, eager to watch his nemesis take a richly-deserved punishment, but prepared to make a break for safety if the knives started flying a little too thick for his comfort.

Ginji's face went ghost-pale the closer Akabane got, but to his credit he held his pose as ordered, until the transporter was almost to the table. Then he bailed out of his seat in a clumsy tornado of limbs, babbling apologies as he went diving for the nearest cover. "HiAkabane-sansorryIdidn'!"

Akabane blinked at the sudden whirlwind but wasn't much fazed; he was long since used to the odd reactions his presence encouraged in Ginji. He reached up, took down his hat and gave a bow to the woman he was addressing. "Good day, madam. I am Doctor Jackal, the transporter you requested. Would you like something to drink while we discuss business?"

Akane turned around and her face lit up like a Christmas tree powered by Ginji's electrical current. She threw out her arms wide to catch him in a hug. "Karawan!"

Akabane blinked. His eyebrows squirmed a little as he sought to process things. "I...beg your pardon?" he managed to get out before he was engulfed in the arms of the smaller woman. Akane wrapped her thin arms around him and squeezed as though he were a sponge and she was trying to wrench every last drop of moisture from him. Akabane looked up at the rest of the diner, then at Akane, then back up, then at Akane again, and finally at their audience.

Himiko felt sorry for him. He had the frozen, glassy-eyed expression of a gaping fish that had just been stunned by a swift blow to the head. And knowing the way that Akabane thought, it probably was a blow of sorts to him. For a split second she felt angry at Ban, for treating the person he was supposed to care for in such a callous manner, but thinking of Akabane again, remembering how he kept himself so calm and controlled, made her realize that decisive blows were probably the only way he could have handled such a shock without turning to a more homicidal denial.

_Jackal doesn't handle emotions well, _Ban had told her once. _It's not so much that he doesn't want to – although that is part of it. It's that he can't confront what he doesn't understand. He sees foreign concepts as either objects of fascination to experiment with, or enemies to defeat. But you can't fight your own emotions like you can using weapons on a physical threat, and they're too serious to toy lightly with. The hardest battles of all take place in the heart and mind._

Judging by the blank slate of Akabane's face – only his eyes, shooting rapidly around the room as he struggled to take in the situation, revealed the turmoil of anxiety swiftly surging in rebellion – all-out war had broken out inside the no-man's land that served as his heart.

Himiko felt a wellspring of sorrow then, wishing she could offer him some support. She herself had grieved deeply before, raged in bitter futile fury once, and soared aloft with joy all too briefly in the past. But she could do so because she gave her emotions the freedom they deserved, and in the end she achieved the release she needed that gave her the greater strength to continue on. Akabane had spent God only knew how long suffocating that part of himself, and as a consequence, was being bludgeoned by the unfamiliar and conflicting and confusing instincts clawing for escape at his insides; the only release he knew was the carnage to be found in violent death. Only because Ban had taken the time to teach him a different route had the transporter begun to attempt toddling steps back onto a path that offered him a chance at real life, a hope for salvation from the darkness that plagued him.

"My lady – forgive me – perhaps you have mistaken me for another - " Akabane said thinly, trying in vain to delicately untangle the vise clamped around his midsection.

"No mistake, my little one," Akane told him. She reached up and touched his face, the contact jolting Akabane like a live wire. He made a little hiccuping noise and jerked backwards before his body seized into utter stillness – the blank fear of a prey cornered.

Akane did not fail to notice this, and her eyes clouded with pain, but she would not be deterred. She stroked her son's hair and said gently, "You know this to be true, Karawan. Long ago we were separated, you remember that night, yes? It break my heart, losing you to those defilers." She spat wordless disgust for a moment, then went on. "But I know you fight them, I know you did not want to go. It not your fault. Never your fault. I always hold the place in my heart for my little jackal, never give up looking once I free from sickness. And now, because of Get Backers, I find you again." The glow in her eyes radiated purple warmth.

Akabane looked ill. His eyes had taken on a glaze and his face was paler than normal. His throat muscles worked for a few seconds as he tried to form words, which pinched off in a near-whisper. "But...my mother...she is...she is...dead...I saw her shroud...the blood..." He sounded like a lost little boy.

Akane shook her head. "Not so. See?" She lifted one of her hands, which had been clutching at his. A thin line of red trickled down a slender finger. In his astonishment, Akabane's scalpels had burst free and were protruding from his hands, and Akane had accidentally brushed her finger over one of the blades. "Could ghost bleed like this?" She seemed amused by the prospect. "I am alive, Karawan. I come back for you."

Akabane stared at the blood on her hand. He looked stricken, and Himiko wondered what must be going through his mind at that moment.

Akane dismissed the shallow cut with a brisk wiping of her hand on a napkin offered by Rena. "Ahh, but all this unimportant now. Past things are passed. I am glad this place is so nice for you. Foolish people - " she shot a stern glower at the starers who had gathered to witness - "make mess, cause chaos! Not proper way to welcome you, not at all," she _tsked._

Shido could no longer hold in his ire. "Hey, everything was fine till the snake bastard butted in. What am I supposed to do, take it on the chin?"

"Among other places," Ban snapped. And the fight was back on.

Akane sighed irritably. "Stupid men never learn!" She let go of Akabane and stepped past him, focusing on the scrabble between Ban and Shido, and said something in a strange language. In the next instant her eyes seemed to go black with menace, and Himiko felt a palpable chill in the air. But what crawled across her arm was nothing so benign as goosebumps, and she screamed when she saw what had just skittered over her forearm and leapt away to zoom in on the combatants.

Hevn grabbed her hand and pulled her up on top of the nearest booth seat, shrieking likewise, and it didn't take long for the rest of the Honky Tonk to follow suit. No one wanted to find out whether the floor now seething with hordes of scarab beetles was dangerous.

"Get 'em OFF ME!" Shido bellowed, frantically pushing the chittering insects off almost as fast as they crawled up his legs. "I HATE BUGS!!"

"She just called you a rancid bug turd," Ban snickered, clambering his way to escape on top of the front counter where the critters hadn't yet invaded. "Have to admit, you sure smell like one!"

Akane fixed him with her lethal stare and hissed. "And _you!"_ Another word, another spell, and Ban abruptly yelped and dove from the counter to the windowsill, as a cavalcade of the biggest, blackest scorpions Himiko had ever seen mushroomed from out of the top of the counter and sped towards him.

This, she knew, was no Jagan, no illusion. This was the real deal. She shuddered.

A new voice rang out among the din, sharp and cold, and she recognized Akabane's call to the scalpels. The Bloody Rain pinged off the ceiling and showered the scattering chitinous mass in a dustcloud of evaporating black mist. Akabane stood, trembling somewhat, at the forefront of the attack, pointing his hand as he directed the extermination. Akane turned to him with a delighted smile, speaking again those strange words she'd used before, and recalled the last of her spell. The beetles and scorpions dropped into ash that faded as quickly as it had materialized.

Four things happened at once then:

Ban, unable to hold in his mirth any longer, yelled, "SURPRIIIIISE!" from where he was clinging desperately to the ceiling -

Ginji, unable to restrain his burgeoning terror any longer, yelled, "PLEASE DON'T KILL ME AKABANE-SAAAAAN!" from where he was hanging on to Ban -

Paul, unable to contain his dread over the hefty bill for the dishes and furniture he'd have to soon replace, yelled, "NOT IN THE SHOP!" from where he was dangling off of Ginji's leg -

And Kuroudo Akabane, Doctor Jackal himself, transporter without fear or failing in the face of deadly adventure, dropped his hat, gave a tiny gasp of "MAMA?!" and fell straight back on the floor in a dead sprawling faint amidst a billowing black trenchcoat.

The silence in the aftermath could have cut stone to ribbons. It was cleaved only by the sudden onslaught of babbled conversation as patrons surrendered to their morbid curiosity, gathering closer at the scene of the crime.

"Blackmail material," Himiko explained to a stunned Kazuki when he noticed her quickly taking out her cell phone and snapping pictures of her fallen cohort. "Like Ban says: never let a good opportunity go to waste!"

--

A good bouncer knows when to break up the party before the rowdier merrymakers get too out of hand. Paul Wan only ran a small coffeehouse in the middle of downtown Shinjuku, but he was no stranger to settling potential problems before they became serious melee' damages. As soon as Akabane hit the floor he was down and running from his squatters' safety net, grabbing all nonessential people nearest him and ordering them out the door, barking at Ban to haul the transporter to a booth and keep an eye on him.

Himiko waded her way through the protesting crowd, counting on her relationships with the primary scoundrels to grant her immunity from the enforced ban. She bypassed a squealing Hevn, who tried to clutch at Himiko's shoulder for purchase but was quickly removed via a sudden gust of wind that seemed to emanate from the same place as Paul himself. Himiko made it to Ban's side and helped him move Akabane to the booth.

"Tell me you got that. Tell me you got that!" he said, eyeing the open cell phone she still had in one hand. "I want copies, Himiko. One for every shocker that hit him! The thrill'll last me till New Year's!" he howled. "God_damn,_ did you SEE that?! Now that's how it's done!"

Himiko had a feeling he wasn't just talking about Akabane's reaction. She too was keeping a wary eye on the mysterious Akane, awed by the scope of the magic she'd just beheld. Even Maria Noches, a grande dame sorceress herself, would have been impressed.

Ginji's terror was temporarily overcome by his fascination at having seen the dreaded danger be vanquished so simply. He'd climbed down from his hiding place and was hanging over the back seat of the booth by Ban. "I had no idea Akabane-san could do that!" he kept repeating to anyone within earshot, which, since Paul had just evicted most of the patrons, wasn't too many people.

Natsumi, clever girl, was now rushing forward with an offer of an icepack. "Poor Akabane-san! Maybe this will help!"

Only Akane showed no sign of distress. She looked puzzled by her son's reaction, but seemed to be taking things in stride. She sat down again and watched the flurry of activity around her, shaking her head silently as if to say, _what a pack of fools. _Himiko silently agreed with her.

Ban took the proffered pack from Natsumi and set it against the back of Akabane's head. "He did smack his gray matter a little harder than I'd thought," he mused. "Hey Himiko, you still got those smelling salts on you?"

She fished around in her harness and found the bottle, handing it to him. "Your head," she warned, stepping back out of the line of immediate fire.

"Pffft," Ban answered, ripping out the cork and waving the open end of the bottle under Akabane's nose. "You get a load of the look on his face? He's too walloped to even think of bloody-raining me."

The salts took a little longer than expected, but no more than several minutes passed before Akabane finally stirred. He winced and pushed at Ban's hand, turning his head away from the odious salts with a groan.

"Good morning, sunshine," Ban told him, giving the bottle back to Himiko. "How you feeling?"

"Ban-kun." Akabane's eyes darted anxiously around, taking in the sight of his lover, his lover's partner and his lover's half-sister all hovering over him. "What happened? I think I just had the most peculiar nightmare..." His eyes slipped shut as he reached up and felt the bump on his head.

"Easy, now. That's a nice shiner you'll be harvesting later." For all his raucousness Ban was toning things down now, stroking Akabane's head to calm him. "You passed out. Can't say I blame you. Must've been a helluva shock, seeing your mom again after so long..."

"Ban-kun." Akabane's eyebrows furrowed into confusion. "That's impossible. My mother's been presumed dead for years, ever since I was a small boy."

Ban shook his head. "Think again. I know dead when I see it, and she ain't it. But I'll let her explain it to you." He grinned then. "Thought I'd give you your Christmas present a little early this year."

He moved aside and Akane got up from her seat to come forward. Her eyes swam in lavender satisfaction as she clasped Akabane in her arms once more. "My Karawan. My precious one!" She rained gentle kisses down on a very bewildered-looking Akabane's face. He was too startled to do anything beyond clamber to a half-sitting-half-reclining position on the booth seat.

"Ban-kun?"

Ban's grin had faded to a curious stare. "It's the real thing, Akabane. No Jagan, I promise. Ginji and I - " he gestured to his wide-eyed partner - "found your mother while she was searching for you."

"Is true," Akane said, her small frame wrapped tight enough around Akabane to make breathing somewhat difficult, as if she feared he would fly from her on a spirit's breath. "I look always for you, Karawan. Never have I found you – until I find them first," she said, nodding at the Get Backers. "These retrievers say they know you." Abruptly she switched to a language that Himiko couldn't understand, rattling off a guttural series of sounds peppered with harsh consonants. She watched as Akabane's eyes grew wider, almost rivaling Ginji's saucer-eyed gawk, and then he started to babble in the same language, his voice not at all quiet and smooth but higher-pitched and fragmented, fraught with something she'd never thought he'd possessed – until now.

Ban didn't seem too surprised by the rapid fire of words exchanged in a foreign tongue, only with the power of the emotions accompanying them. He pulled out his cigarettes and lighter and started to fire one up.

Without breaking stride in her conversation Akane turned around in one fluid motion and swatted the implements from his hand before turning back to Akabane and resuming her speech. "I tell him to stop that bad thing!" she said momentarily in Japanese, before picking up where she'd left off.

Akabane was trying to keep up with her, gasping out portions of his side even as Akane chattered on, both mother and son unconcerned with interruptions so long as they weren't coming from outside sources. Himiko perceived a kind of rhythm to the language they were using, an enticing melody underlying the harshness, and she sensed that this language was a type of unique magic all its own. It made her think of endless deserts, and cold moonlit nights so pure one could travel as if in daylight, and sun so bright and hot the empty expanses would bake to cinders while the lush fields nearby drew their strength from the blue-green serpent of the great river that nourished them.

Ban nudged her. "Egyptian, mostly. Some of it's a dialect in the ancient ways. My grandmother had a set of old Egyptian spellbooks. It's pretty amazing stuff."

Himiko couldn't take her eyes off the two people enraptured by each other. "How does Akabane know how to speak Egyptian?"

"'Cause he grew up there. You never really forget what you grow up with," Ban said sagely. "That's why I said you don't wanna screw with Akane. Where they come from, that magic's centuries in the making. Percolated over time – others might've gotten there first, but they were the one really big civilization to establish a known empire in the ancient world. That's heavy-duty power we're talking here."

Akabane was growing less agitated, his face alight with an unusual humanity as his voice eventually slowed and diminished in volume. Akane too was settling, her tone soothing while she held her son and touched his hair, his face. Himiko wanted to hug the both of them. She stayed put, surreptitiously swiping at her own face with a careless arm to stay the threatening sting in her eyes.

Ban looked upon them with ripe satisfaction, a pleasure from both having completed a job well done, and relief that things had progressed (mostly) the way he'd wanted them to. Even Ginji's worry was dissolving, and he leaned in to study the scene, his brown eyes warming to the reunion of family and a hesitant, flickering smile making its way over the edges of his lips.

"You should take your own advice," Himiko told Ban. "I noticed you seem to have no problem provoking Akane!"

He made a face. "I'm a retriever, I'm supposed to piss people off. Anyway, we have an...understanding between us." He looked down at the floor where his beloved cigarettes and lighter lay, the victims of the sorcereress's wrath. He picked them up and made as though he were going to light one, thought better of it and stuffed them back into his pocket. "And since I helped her get back her baby boy, that gives me a special immunity."

A slightly rough clearing of throat drew their attention. Akabane, now mostly composed into something of a normal semblance for him, was looking at Ban with a raised eyebrow. "But not from me," he said. "We _will_ have a discussion later, Midou-kun." He looked serious, but not overly upset, Himiko decided, which probably meant that all Ban could expect from his mate by way of punishment was a sound scolding at having withheld this information for so long.

Ban's sheepish shrug seemed to confirm this. He held out his hands. "Ah, you know I had to do it, Akabane. Now give your mom a hug. Don't you think she's earned it after all this time?"

Akabane's expression softened. "Indeed she has. Mama," he said, an unmistakable happiness tinting his voice as he and Akane embraced. "Mama, I missed you so much..."

Akane smiled with him and kissed his forehead. _"Aa._ The grave in my breast is finally filled as well. No greater gift can the gods bestow to me than this - my Karawan, my brave strong Karawan."

"It's Kuroudo now, Mama. Father insisted," Akabane said.

"_Aa._ Yes, I know. But to me, you will always be my little jackal," Akane told him with a little chuckle.

Ginji piped up from his place. "I bet Akabane-san was really cute as a kid, huh, Akane-san?"

"Oh cripes, now you've done it," Ban groaned, just as Akane turned around and said, "But of course!" and whipped open her purse to pull out a small album of old sepia-tinted photographs. The openmouthed expression on Akabane's face was priceless when his mother flipped the little book open to show a picture of her smirking son at age four wearing a big black hat and a scuffed physician's lab coat, while Ginji giggled overhead and Ban rolled his eyes.

"It could be worse," Himiko consoled a startled Akabane, patting his shoulder. "When Ban first came to live with us, my brother Yamato once showed him a picture of me as a naked infant in the bathtub!"

"Aa! I think have one of those," the ever-practical Akane announced, sifting through the pages of the album looking for said evidence.

Sensing Akabane's rising discord Ban acted quickly to stem the tide of Js. "Um, Akane, I know this is kind of an awkward moment, but we could stand to take care of a little business first, if you know what I mean - " He wiggled his fingers in a panhandling gesture.

"Midou-kun, really, how crass," Akabane chastised, though not too strongly as he looked relieved to have been spared the embarrassment of further childhood revelations.

Akane looked up from her search and paused. "Ah, payment. Yes. You do your job well, Ban-kun. Very well indeed. You have truly earned this." She opened up her purse again and took out a fat wad of cash. Ban's eyes boggled, and so did Himiko's. Ban's hand shot out to clutch the bundles of money that Akane was extending...

...which were promptly dropped into a surprised Ginji's arms.

"You go to grocery store," Akane told him kindly. "Buy lots and lots of food. Not share with greedy partner who starves you! He can buy his own."

Ginji squeezed the money and looked up at her with wonder written all over his face. He was in his own glorious personal _shi no jundo,_ a pure and heavenly death by chocolate – and meat, and rice balls, and fruit, and anything else his synapse-spasming brain was crackling to list for immediate purchase.

"Half that dough belongs to me, buster!" Ban demanded, his right hand shooting out to take what he felt was his rightful share. The snap and sizzle of electric current forced him to remain penniless, however.

Sparks danced from Ginji's hair while he hunched over his prize, looking uncannily like Doctor Jackal as he presented a sinister smile and narrowed glare. "Now, Ban-chan. You wouldn't want to make Akane-sama angry again, would you? After all, I'm supposed to respect my elders by obeying their wishes!"

"Ginji-kun has a point," Akabane said, an amused smile creeping along his mouth. "If Mama isn't happy, then no one is going to be happy. Hmm?"

"Not in the shop, please?" a weary Paul sighed as he took Natsumi's and Rena's hands and led them into the safety of the back storeroom before Himiko was treated to the sight of Ban expressing his very distinct lack of happiness squarely on top of Ginji's head.

"Mama," Akabane chuckled. "Show Himiko-san what you do to people who won't listen to you."

"My pleasure, Karawan." Akane took Himiko by the hand and they followed after the snarling tangle of retrieval partners. "Now pay attention, child. I show you how to put fear of Seth into troublesome retriever boys. No one stirs bloody chaos like Lord of Upper Egypt...!"

--

TBC


	41. Stairway To Heaven part 3

Title: Stairway To Heaven (ch. 3)  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #22 – "cradle"

Rating: PG-13 (language, m/m)

Warnings/Spoilers: Minor ones for basic canon.

Notes: The tarot used is the standard deck; I tweaked it a little to provide suitable drama for Himiko's reading. ;)  
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Akane Akabane though, is my own invention.  
Summary: Himiko reflects on the mysterious no-man's land that brought Ban and Akabane together, and a new path revealed sets into motion a revolution that will change everyone's lives forever.

--

As all things came and went in cycles, so too did the addition of yet another colorful denizen to the Honky Tonk's regular patrons become an adjustment that the long-timers learned to accept, albeit with their individually awkward graces. It was harder, Himiko had noticed, for them to pretend that all was well in the world when one of their flock could just as easily sic death – whether by scalpels or locusts - on them as sweetly inquire about their welfare.

For a time Himiko got a kick out of the reactions of Ginji's crowd whenever Akane Akabane, often accompanied by her doting son and her son's darkly-amused mate, appeared in the little shop to partake of her newest habits: Paul Wan's oft-praised coffee and pizza. Since Himiko was going through a slow spell in her line of work, she'd been hanging around Ban and Akabane more often, and the observations she became privy to were endlessly fascinating. Ban, she'd come to realize, was not quite as hesitant about sharing or utilizing the particulars of his cursed heritage, and Akabane had greatly scaled back his employment commitments while cautiously evading all bloody temptations. Kuroudo was a different little boy when Mama was present.

Himiko found this morbidly funny, but out of sensitivity for Akabane's temperamental nature refrained from bringing the topic up in his company. Besides, part of being a transporter was knowing when to surf the current to its limits and when to roll back to higher ground. She'd developed a sixth sense for telling when Akabane was amenable to good-natured jests at his expense and when the wrong word at the wrong time would touch off a bloody hurricane.

Nowhere was this more evident than in the jackal's den. Akane was moving in with Ban and Akabane, the office room having been transformed into a temporary bedroom at Akabane's request – Himiko took pity on Ginji and helped him move some of the furniture and debris around while Ban loudly complained about having to sacrifice the master bedroom. It was his idea to set Akane up in one of the local hotels, a suggestion his mate didn't take kindly to when it was proposed.

"Why should I give up my nice warm cushy bed when there's a perfectly serviceable hotel just right down the street?" he demanded. "I'll even cough up half the reservation fee. The Minato's not all that far away from here - "

Akabane wouldn't hear of it. "Put _my_ mother up in that filth-infested squalor? I think not! I told Mama she can stay with us."

Ban was not pleased. "You're giving her our bedroom!"

"I'd have done the same for you if you'd wanted to let your mother stay with us," Akabane replied as he ushered a box-laden Ginji through the apartment.

"Nice try, but you're forgetting one crucial component. I don't get on with my mom, remember?"

"Nevertheless. I'd still have extended my hospitalities to Sabrina-san had you asked it of me."

"Doesn't count," Ban grumbled. "You're obligated by default to be polite."

"That just shows good breeding," Akabane smugly answered. "Mama always said that you could tell good blood from bad by their common behaviors."

"Shit, if that's the case I guess I'm screwed." Ban watched Himiko help Akabane move a small rug into the hallway by the front door. "Why does she have to sleep in our room anyway? Least you could do if you're going to go to all the trouble of rearranging the office is to put her in there."

Akabane glowered at him. "Midou-kun, that is not the proper way to treat a guest, much less one that happens to be a relation! It won't kill you to exhibit a little courtesy." His eyes narrowed. "I, on the other hand..."

"Spare me the stray scalpels," Ban groaned. "Just tell me why Akane gets the good room and we get the boot."

"Because it's the best, and honored guests always get first pick," Akabane said. "Mama came an awfully long way to be here with us. I think she deserves to be treated well, hmm? That's why Ginji-kun and Himiko-san were so kind as to help me fix up the apartment so that everyone has suitable quarters. I have everything planned out. Mama will sleep in our room, and I'll take the cot in the office."

Ban scowled. "Wait. Where am I sleeping?"

"Couch central!" Ginji chortled from behind Himiko. He dodged the pillow Ban flung at his head.

"Oh no. Oh no no no no no hell no!" Ban got up from said maligned couch and confronted his lover. "I don't do double-time as a retriever just to sleep on some ratty old sofa when I have comfortable digs waiting for me. That's my bed and this is my home, and I say Mommy Bloodiest goes!"

Akabane raised a brow the way he always did whenever someone had just made the fatal error of challenging him. "Oh, really?" He looked at Himiko. "Himiko-san, would you please bring me that box over there in the corner?"

Curious, she did as he asked. It was a small box, not weighing very much. Himiko gave it to Akabane, who set it on top of the coffee table and opened it, withdrawing a small gray board.

He held it up so that they could all see what it was. "This is a chalkboard." Akabane raised his other hand and a knife shot up between his fingers. "This is a scalpel. Applying one to the other will produce some interesting sounds. Any questions?"

Ban had gone pale. "You wouldn't dare!"

Akabane's smile was decidedly cruel. "Try me." He walked closer to Ban and lightly tapped the end of his nose with the scalpel. "Mama stays. Mm?"

Ban glanced from the not-so-thinly veiled threat to Kuroudo, and back again. "I suppose...for a while," he finally growled.

Akabane smiled benevolence this time and kissed his cheek, replacing his knife. "There, now, was that so terribly hard?"

"It will be if we're not sharing a bed together," Ban muttered, glancing at his pants.

"Hmpf. The suspension will do you good. Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder, after all."

"That's absence, you twit."

Akabane shrugged as he placed the chalkboard back into the box and moved it into a storage closet. "Absence, abstinence. They're practically the same thing. Abstinence is merely the absence of activity."

Ginji suddenly piped up. "To everything there is a season, huh, Akabane-san?"

Akabane looked delighted by that. "Indeed there is, Ginji-kun."

"How long is Akane going to be around, anyway?" Himiko asked.

"Two weeks," Ban said, at the same time that Akabane answered, "As long as she wishes to stay." The lovers shot looks at each other, and Himiko was hard-pressed to keep from dissolving into a snort of laughter.

"The master bedroom suits Mama's needs best," Akabane said. "It's comfortable and it's large enough that she can set up her altar on the dresser. She's mostly retired now, but she still keeps in practice, so I see no harm in accommodating her if it continues to give her enjoyment."

"An altar? Like in church?" Ginji said.

"Something like that." Akabane hesitated, then said, "You can appreciate this, Ban-kun. In the old land, Mama was a keeper of magic the same as you."

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

As calmly as he were mentioning the daily weather report, Akabane said, "She was a necromancer."

"Oh, well, that's not so - " Ban's eyes bulged and he almost choked on his beer. "Hold on, a necro-WHAT?"

"What's that mean, Ban-chan?"

"It means Akane works with the dead," Himiko told him, somewhat feeling sorry for Ginji when his eyes likewise bulged and he turned a sickly shade of green.

"It means big trouble, is what it means!" Ban declared. "We have enough of that crap on our hands without a bunch of zombies crawling up out of the dirt to have a go at us!"

Seemingly oblivious to the stunned reactions his announcement was garnering Akabane turned and began sorting through some papers in a folder he'd picked up from the coffee table. "Really, Midou-kun, it's nothing as uncouth as what you're thinking. Mama doesn't raise corpses from the grave. Necromancers can perform other tasks besides resurrection, isn't that right, Himiko-san?"

"I'm not sure I follow," Himiko said. "Maria hasn't gotten that far in our lessons yet."

"It's more that Mama communicates with the spirits," Akabane explained. "For a fee she can contact the dead and speak with them in accordance with the relatives' wishes."

"And what's she need an altar for if not to conduct some freaky spell while we're asleep?" Ban snapped.

"You're overreacting, Midou-kun," Akabane sighed. "The altar merely gives her a grounding place for her nightly prayers. I told you, she was retired..."

Ban pinned him with a look. "'Was'? How retired are we talking here, Kuroudo?"

Caught, Akabane lowered his eyes to one side. "...mm...sort of..." he murmured.

"Uh-uh. Forget it, Kuroudo! If she's going to be living with us she's retired, end of story. This family's big enough for one witch and one witch only, and I called dibs on that well before you and I even met."

"Hey, what about me? I'm a witch too," Himiko said, but she was ignored by the pending combatants.

Akabane seemed bemused by his mate's ire. "Don't tell me you're feeling threatened by my mother's abilities. Come now, Ban-kun. That sort of childishness is beneath you. I bet that if you asked her nicely, Mama would gladly share some of her practice with you. I know she'd very much like to experience your Jagan."

"I _know_ necromancy," Ban said sourly. "I'll pass on that nugget of joy, thanks. You bring enough death to the table for an army of gravediggers!"

Akabane just shook his head, patting Ban on the shoulder as he passed by. "Midou-kun. You're exaggerating."

Ban looked at Himiko. "Six Js the week before Akane showed up. That's not exaggeration. That's a fact, and I can show you the bloodstains to prove it!"

Akabane chuckled and looked to her as well. "I don't usually get to kill that many enemies, now, do I?"

"Only when you lose your temper and let people like those IL clients have it," Himiko pointed out.

Akabane smiled in rueful acknowledgment. "Yes, well, I suppose I could have held back that one time..."

Ginji cocked his head at the transporters as he wondered aloud, "Hey, that's the first time I've ever heard Akabane-san admit he regrets killing!"

Akabane arched a fine brow at him. "Everyone makes mistakes on occasion, Ginji-kun. But yes, when I think on it, I do regret my hastiness." He paused. "I should have waited until our retrieval group left before I killed them. I fear I may have ruined quite a few dinner appetites that evening."

Something thudded into a muffled cushion, and then, again. Himiko saw Ginji methodically thumping his forehead against the back of the couch. Ban gave her a longsuffering eye-roll. "See what I have to live with?"

"You brought it on yourself," she said unsympathetically.

"Yes, I did. And yes, I am twelve kinds of colossal crazy."

How crazy Ban could be was put to the test a week later when Akabane's mother had settled in and Himiko came over on a dinner invitation. Long before she'd walked through the front door, she'd picked up the mouthwatering aroma of fresh homemade chocolate chip cookies, and she automatically wondered how many of those would survive the night.

She needn't have worried, for Akabane himself was sitting guard nearby at the kitchen table where the finished cookies were cooling. The baker was nowhere to be seen. "Mama had to run to the corner store to pick up some more butter," Akabane explained, not looking up from his book when Himiko greeted him.

"And you're leaving these out here, where Ban can get to them?" She shook her head. "I'd invest in a good hiding place if I were you, or you'll never see one measly chocolate chip."

"Wouldn't matter," Ban's voice pricked her from behind as he snuck into the room. "I am an expert at retrieving any and all hidey-holes, and that includes the ones reserved for tasty treats." He smirked at them both, and reached for a cookie.

Akabane still wasn't looking up from his reading. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Mama does not like interference with her baking."

Ban paused, but still kept his hand out. "Why not? It's just one bite. Out of what, four dozen?" He went for the cookie again.

Himiko slapped his hand away. "I'd listen to Jackal, Ban. Do you really want to tangle with an angry cook?"

"See, Himiko-san gets it, and she hasn't even known Mama as long as you have yet," Akabane said.

Ban snorted. "At least Akane can cook, unlike some people present." He dodged when Himiko tried to elbow him in the side.

"I just don't think it's good policy to mess with any Akabane, even if she is a mother."

Akabane raised a brow at Himiko. "Why, Himiko-san. Are you saying that I'm difficult to get along with?"

She leveled him with a look. "I'm saying that I know you, and if your mother is anything like you are, I suspect that there are more forks in your family tree than there are in Ban and Ginji's mouths on Christmas morning!"

Akabane feigned an indignant huff of breath while Ban poked her shoulder and said, "Wrong utensil, remember?" And reached once more for the forbidden fruit, or tried to, as Himiko attempted to block him. "Who appointed you cookie guard? Trust me, she won't miss one lousy cookie!"

Now Akabane put aside his book. He looked up sternly at Ban. "Really." He paused deliberately. "Midou-kun, when I was four years old I went into my mother's room while she was away at market one afternoon. Without her permission, I took one of her best sheets and used it to build a fort in the backyard. When I was finished playing I dusted it off, folded it back up, and returned it to its place in the linen closet, all without leaving a single speck of dirt on it."

Ban and Himiko waited, eyeing him with wary expectation.

Akabane continued. "Mama came home, took one look at me and dragged me over her knee for a sound switching. I could barely sit straight for a week afterward." He winced and put a hand to his backside in memory before wagging a finger at Ban. "It's most unwise to trifle with my mother." He leaned forward and hissed softly, _"She knows everything!"_

This was uttered with such seriousness that Himiko didn't doubt it for a second, but Ban was too tempted by baking's seductive siren scent to pay the warning any heed. "Oh come on. That whole eyes-in-the-back-of-the-head thing is just an old superstition. Besides, what Momma doesn't know won't hurt me!"

Akabane sighed, and shrugged as he resumed his place in his book, shaking his head in defeat. "It's your funeral, dearest."

Ban smirked in triumph and grabbed for his cookie. Before his fingers could even touch the delectable dessert the room seemed to move in a blur and an enormous meat cleaver was thudding down between Ban and the cookie with all the doom of Raitei's thunder.

Ban had no time to contemplate just how a butcher's knife could strike with such accuracy that it was touching the pads of his fingers without ever shedding any blood. Akane Akabane was moving around the table, screeching at him in a blistering invective from an old tongue that could have torn off more skin than a sizzling desert wind. She yanked the knife out of the table and shook it at Ban before abruptly silencing her curses and smiling at Himiko as she puttered back into the kitchen to finish mixing the last of her dough.

Ban looked like he'd just been hit by Gouzou Maguruma's truck. "What...did she just say to me?"

Akabane continued to read. "She said that if you try that again it will be your head, and she won't miss on purpose."

Ban stared at him. "Over a cookie."

Akabane shrugged. "I told you so."

"We need to talk, Kuroudo."

Akabane chuckled and looked up from his book. "Look at it this way, Ban-kun. She cares enough about you to give you a warning first. That means she likes you."

Ban was still dazed. "I don't wanna know what she does to the people she doesn't like, do I."

Akabane smiled, and shook his head.

"Gotcha." Ban slowly backed away from the table. "I think...I'm just gonna go lie down for a while..." The last Himiko and Akabane saw of him was his toddling towards the safety of Ginji's apartment across the hall, still muttering repeatedly, "...a freakin' COOKIE?"

"You enjoy doing that to him, don't you?" Himiko needled her mercurial cohort.

Akabane looked up with a smile, but said nothing, though his eyes twinkled with plenty of mischief.

Akane came around again and plucked one of the cooled cookies from the rows, dropping it into Himiko's hand. "For you, child."

"Thank you," Himiko blurted, before giving Akabane a curious glance.

He smiled. "Patience is a virtue. Isn't that right, Mama?"

"Aa, aa. Cookies must be right warmth for the milk. Perfect taste then," Akane stated, pouring them all glasses of cold milk. She handed another cookie to her son and doled out a second to Himiko. "Now, no more until after dinner. We must not spoil appetites, yes?"

Out of the corner of her eye Himiko saw a glint of blue sneaking her way and she pulled back just in time to avoid having part of her first cookie snitched by Akabane. "What do you think you're doing?"

"They taste better when they're stolen?" he offered with a little chuckle.

"So that's why Maguruma never lets his french fries out of his sight," Himiko guessed.

--

They drank, and spoke of the previously forbidden, while Himiko made good use of the kitchen to help Akane in preparing dinner – a Kudou family recipe, according to Yamato, which only she had ever excelled at, despite Ban's jabs that she was the only person he knew who could scorch water. Repeatedly, she had to shoo Ginji away from the stove where she was monitoring the bubbling stew pot, for he kept grabbing eager sniffs and asking her when it would be done – that is, when he was certain Akane wasn't anywhere within meat-cleaver distance. Ban had made sure to fill him in with colorful detail on that one.

Himiko and Ban argued, just as they did in the old days, her spitting fury like a cobra and hurling accusations with as deadly precision as Akabane used his scalpels, and Ban patiently made a sitting target of himself, letting those cuts score deeply, until Akabane grew bored enough to interrupt the chaos by politely requesting that Ginji help him set the table, much to Akane's approval.

As they ate Himiko decided it was time to broach a subject that until now she'd been reluctant to discuss with either Ban or Akabane. Of the former's secrecy she was well aware; he'd only consented to share part of it with her under persuasion from the latter. The lessons she'd undertaken from the sorceress Maria Noches had spurred her thoughts in recent weeks, and Himiko was growing increasingly curious, if not uneasy, about the curse that had shaped so much of her destiny. It had come as no small shock to her to see her own face reflected back at her in living ether, and then to witness that coalescing shape vanish tauntingly the first time she and her group had attempted to confront it.

Somewhere, _she_ was still out there. Waiting. Watching. It gave Himiko the creeps to know that her double held secrets to a curse she herself had very little knowledge of.

There had to be a way to defeat it. Ban had told her that although there was a time limit, she wouldn't have to face it alone, and on that much she believed him. Forewarned was forearmed, and though they didn't yet know how to stop the Voodoo Curse from completing its effect – if indeed it could be stopped at all – they knew enough that they could tackle that challenge head-on.

Akabane presented another kind of temptation. He was just too knowing for someone who claimed to be a simple transporter, that one, and his habit of dropping sly little hints here and there was curdling her blood. Himiko accepted the risk she was taking in questioning him in particular – Akabane was not given to freely discussing his personal history, much less any that was certain to involve the nefarious Babylon City – but chancing his anger seemed considerably less dangerous at the moment than grappling with the ignorance shielding her curse from full view. Despite his earlier cautions of not antagonizing his mother, Himiko felt reasonably certain that Akane would not interfere at this point, out of respect for her. The elder Akabane could even prove to be a helpful ally, if she felt motivated enough to prod her son into cooperation.

Deciding that the best way to accomplish her desires was through a practice run of her recently-learned skills in divination, Himiko excused herself after dinner to fetch from her motorcycle bag a set of cards given to her by Maria. She'd liked the woman almost immediately after meeting her. Maria was like the mother she'd never had, and seemed to know it without Himiko even having to say so. Surprising even herself, Himiko had taken to the lessons in magic like the proverbial fish to water, which had delighted Maria to no end.

Upon returning to the table where the others waited – Ban was leaning over, egging a petrified Ginji on to try an arm-wrestling competition with a sweetly-enticing Akabane who was being quietly admonished by his mother not to go too hard on the dear boy – Himiko placed the deck face-down on the surface.

Ban wiggled the unlit cigarette he was gnawing on in his mouth. "Tarot time, huh?"

"For practice," Himiko said. "I want to see if what I've learned has improved any."

"I can tell you right now that much like your love life, your magic skills are flat-lined," Ban said with a feral grin.

Mindful of Akabane's rule about profanity in polite company, Himiko smiled pure poison at him in return. "Go copulate with yourself, Ban."

He remained unfazed. "That's what 'ol Jackal here is for." He reached out and slapped Akabane soundly on the rear as the other transporter passed by, carrying the last of the dirty dishes to the sink.

"Midou-kun!" Akabane whirled and gave him a mock-indignant glare. "Not in front of our guests!"

"I didn't see anything," Ginji eagerly volunteered, hoping to put himself beyond all bloody reproach.

Ban wiggled his eyebrows in superiority. "He loves me," he chuckled confidently to Himiko as soon as his lover was out of earshot.

"He'll love you not if I splash him with Puppet Scent and tell him to do a little physical therapy on you," Himiko responded. "Now are you going to help me with this or not?"

"Oh, all right. Since you're obviously PMSing again…" But Ban took his seat as she directed him to and cleared an area for her to lay out the spread, even calmly correcting her when she was about to start pulling cards without having first mixed the deck.

As soon as Akabane had returned and they were seated – Himiko at the head of the table, with Akane at the other end, Ban on her left side and Akabane on her right, and Ginji on Ban's other side – she began to shuffle cards, speaking to Akane as she did so.

"I was born the daughter of a cursed lineage. My original destiny had been shadow, but that was not the way fate spun its wheel. I was resurrected in a new body, the form you see now. But that came at a price. This curse, the Vodun legacy, is what shapes my future now. If I don't chart the stars of my own course, someone else intends to do it for me, and I lose all chance at life."

Akane listened to all this, and nodded when she was done. "Aa. I am not familiar with this magic you speak of, but Ban-kun mentions it to me. It is a terrible thing, not to live one's own destiny."

Himiko set down her cards and looked at Ban. "You told me once that the shamans from whom the Voodoo Curse originated plan to use their creations – the Lost Children – as conduits to power, and ultimately, the mysteries of Mugenjou. It can't be as bad as it sounds. From what Maria taught me, those who hold the keys to the gates of the forbidden city could be capable of changing that destiny itself, if they were able to fully understand the skill necessary to wield their power effectively. I want to use the tarot to find a possible path to this source."

Ban put a hand over hers before she could draw any cards. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

The firm retort died on her lips before she could spit it at him. Himiko studied Ban for a moment, noting the simmering concern in his blue eyes. He was suddenly grave. "Why?"

"If you start something, you better be prepared to finish it. Magic isn't something you go into on a whim out of macabre curiosity, Himiko. It's serious business."

"I've been using potion magic since before Yamato and I even met you," she said, brushing aside for the time being the little pinch of pain she always felt upon thinking of her long lost brother. "I think I can handle a simple tarot reading. I'm a transporter, after all. I always finish my jobs."

"Oh yeah? Seems to me like I can remember a certain platinum incident – "

"Hush, Midou-kun," Akabane interjected smoothly. "Let Himiko-san tell her story. It may be interesting."

At least he was willing to hear her out. Himiko nodded a silent thanks to him and shifted her attention to the cards once more. "What kind of spread should we draw?"

"Depends on the specifics you want," Ban said. "If you're looking for concrete answers, I'd go with the Cross spread. Gives a good in-depth perspective on the situation for direct questioning. Unless you're looking for a general overview, then I'd use the five-card open method."

She nodded. "Cross it is, then," Himiko said, beginning to pull and lay out the cards, face down, in a crucifix-shaped pattern. The base of the cross, instead of tapering off to a point, abruptly flared into a horizontal line; hence the pattern's full name of Celtic Cross Formation.

Himiko looked at the drawn spread and took a deep breath. Here went nothing.

--

The first card she turned over was the Ace of Swords. "Well damn, way to start off a reading," Ban muttered as Himiko moved her hand away from the card so everyone could see it. Swords were a harbinger of aggression and this one was no different; its reversed position from where Himiko had overturned it meant that caution would be a wise option. With the forces of Babylon City aligned on Brain Trust's side, any attempt at wielding power against them could have disastrous consequences, if that power was not carefully utilized.

Himiko thought over her next question as she put her hand on the second card. Minor arcana were not to be taken as absolutes. Rather, they suggested possibilities that could be expanded upon. But when she spoke her question, turned over the second card and laid it sideways atop the first, the horizon beginning to unfold ahead of her took on personal focus.

Ban's eyes connected with hers, but neither of them said anything. The Wheel of Fortune was a significant major arcana card, representing none other than the great spin of fate. Himiko wasn't sure how she ought to interpret this one, for its upright placement could be less benevolent than it appeared. Unexpected events, she knew, could go either way, and unusual losses were something she'd come to expect in her life.

Perhaps it was fitting that this card, in honor of the two men for whom fate held the most turbulent of revolutions, bore the insignias of both. On its left side, the infamous serpent twined round in its arrogant grace; on the right, Anpu-Anubis, the Jackal Watcher of the Night, kept silent guard.

Ban made a noncommittal noise. He didn't seem terribly worried, so Himiko chose to let it pass without further comment. She spoke the next question, drew the next card.

"What part must I play in this crossroads?"

Interesting, she realized a second later, that she'd used that word. Crossroads. Great omens of both ill and good portent occurred here. The Seven of Wands she'd drawn and placed into the crucifix-pattern formation might appear to bolster her faith.

Ban seemed to think so, for he nodded approvingly. "Not bad. So long as you watch your ass," he added. The card was resting upright, but it, like its kin, held a multitude of meanings that could be narrowed to fit the scope of Himiko's particular situation – and some of those hints carried a decidedly unpleasant aspect.

"I have to fight them," she said slowly. "In the end, they're Yamato's killers. I have to challenge them on their own turf so my brother can finally be at peace."

"Well, you're not doing it alone," Ban said flatly. "Not unless you want to rest _in_ peace."

"Or pieces," Ginji put in unhelpfully. "Ban-chan's right, Himiko-chan. Brain Trust is way too big and dangerous to take on all by yourself! We'll help you."

"You think I can't do it," Himiko said, glaring at the both of them. "How many times do I have to say it before it finally bores through your thick skulls? I'm not some helpless little girl anymore. I can handle the battles I choose."

"I know that. We know that," Ban grumbled. "But you fell prey once to the illusions the first time we screwed around with Divine Design, remember? Brain Trust isn't stupid. They've been keeping tabs on us the whole time; they'll have evolved just as we have to cope with any threats. You march in there with a chip on your shoulder and an ax to grind, they'll pick you off just like a ripe zit, make no mistake."

Stung by the memory of the fake Yamato's deceit, Himiko felt her face redden. "We know the secrets of Mugenjou now. We have an insider with Makubex. Now that we're aware of the fortress's manipulative abilities, we can counter that."

Akabane spoke suddenly. "I wonder. Do we really know all the secrets of that place?"

She looked at him, a silent demand for elaboration. But he did not oblige. He didn't have to, for Ban was on the same wavelength.

"Jackal's right, kid. That place spooks me up the hide more than I ever care to admit. The farther away we stay from it, the happier I'll be as far as I'm concerned."

"Me too," Ginji said. "All that ever happens there are bad things! People getting hurt, and death - "

"Hmm. Perhaps that is what makes it so interesting," Akabane mused. "Maybe we _ought_ to go there."

"Are you nuts?!" Ban almost shouted at him, at about the same time Ginji shuddered and yelped, "No way, Akabane-san!"

Akane raised her brow at the two; it was an effective enough silencer. She looked to Himiko. "I hear sometimes of this Mugenjou. What is it?"

Ignoring Ban's growl of "it ain't no damn Disneyland, that's for sure," Himiko tapped her fingers on the deck of tarot cards as she thought for a minute. "You've seen the enormous complex at the city's ground zero?"

"Aa. It is this tall building?"

"A series of them. Everyone used to think they were just a failed construction project that went bust when the recession hit years ago. But some of us have actually been in there. We found out that it was Brain Trust's experimental zoo," Himiko said. "They hold the people who live in there hostage. Some escaped, like Ginji or the Threadmaster Kazuki. But others are trapped by means as yet unfathomable to us," she finished on a lower note, knowing only too well what it felt like to be caged in isolation, no options left. "Some time ago...there was a battle. We managed to free the Lower Town section with all the people who were being used, but to a limited degree. They still can't leave the boundaries of the set perimeters. If they do, they disappear."

"Forever," Ginji said, his eyes dimming, no doubt having conjured the reminder of his successor the boy king. "But at least the Brain Trust can't bother them any more..."

"That we know of," his sterner partner said, his own blue eyes cooling in resolve. "'Cause if you think they've forgotten about your little indoor barbecue when we rescued Makubex, you better get your own head rewired, and fast. The next time they'll go for the kill." Ban looked at Akabane. "Isn't that right, Jackal?"

Akabane's face creased in a slight frown to match his mother's. "Now, Midou-kun. If you are referring to the time when I approached you and Ginji-kun about a fight, let me reassure you. Kagami-kun cannot distract me again. He has already tried and failed, most miserably I might add."

"Doesn't matter. In Mugenjou, all bets are off. The place turns your head inside out."

"Yeah," Ginji said. "When we had to go in there to get the IL, Ban-chan said that you and I were fighting, Akabane-san. I don't remember doing it, but I could feel something of Raitei still in me that was all angry and didn't settle down for a while. And Sakura told me later that she'd witnessed the fight. We really tore up the underground there."

Akabane favored him with a smile. "Yes, it was very thrilling. My only regret is that we were interrupted before the battle _really_ began in earnest." He sensed waves of parental disapproval enveloping him in a flood and gave Akane a confused look. "Heavens, Mama, it's nothing personal. It's just what Ginji-kun and I do."

Her scowl put one of his arctic glares to shame. "Why do you fight with Gin-ji, Karawan? He is good boy."

He had the grace to appear somewhat chagrined. "It was nothing, Mama, only a small tussle in the course of our objective."

"And only a small stabbity with your baby's favorite sword to show for it," Ban needled. "Which I noticed you apparently have no regret for."

Akabane developed a pout. "That was your own fault. You shouldn't have interfered with a fight that was clearly intended for others."

"Both of you, bad!" Akane snapped, making them fall quiet immediately. She'd barely raised her voice, but then, she had no need of volume with sheer force of presence at her command. "Ban-kun says this Mugenjou turns people inside out - "

"Not literally," Himiko tried to correct.

" - then you try to do same to each other. That is not good. Not good." She clucked her tongue. "I raise you better than that, Karawan."

"He runs with scissors too," Ban offered.

"Among other sharp things," Ginji whispered back to him. The two Get Backers shared a muted snicker.

"I most certainly do not," Akabane said, a dull irritation simmering in his expression. He looked ready to cross the point of knife-throwing stage, but then again, he was a lot less prone to exposing weaponry in his mother's presence. Fear of God, indeed. Himiko had to cover her mouth with a hand to hide the grin she couldn't help at seeing the bulk of Akane's ire directed at her poor erstwhile transporting comrade.

The necromanceress continued. "That is why Gin-ji always shy to visit. Yes? No way for you to behave around guests, Karawan!"

"But Mama - "

Akane said nothing, only gave her son That Look, and he shut up fast. Himiko marveled at the impossible. She'd never seen Akabane – who danced with death in one arm and a bloody sword in the other, smiling through pain that would have crippled other mortals - wilt like that before.

Ban poked her in the side. "Mothers are the kiss of death," he chuckled knowingly.

Louder, he said to the elder woman, "He can't help it, Akane. Neither of them can. It's that place. It does something to people. Ginji and Akabane just happen to be especially susceptible to it."

Akane looked perplexed. "Then stay out of there! Foolish boys. No bad place, no fighting." She looked like she had every expectation of her simple solution to be the one and only answer. Himiko wouldn't have been surprised if, upon learning that this was not how the infinite castle operated, Akane tried to storm its gates on her own using the same penetrating glare she'd leveled her son with - nor would she have been all that shocked to see the elder claim victory.

"It's a little more complicated than that," Ban said. "Sometimes we don't have a choice. Our jobs take us to just about every place in the book you can think of."

"And to some that aren't in the book!" Ginji added.

Akane was not pleased. "Always a choice. Choose not to go into bad places when you know they hold danger. You live longer."

"Quality of life ought to count as much as quantity, don't you think, Mama?" Akabane said. "Mugenjou might not be the most hospitable of areas, but it does offer some rather interesting opportunities, if one knows where to tread..." He broke off when his mother's eyes froze into razor-thin slits of purple targeted on him. "...Mama?"

Ban's sides were shaking from holding in his laughter. He puckered his lips and blew his lover a smug kiss. "Keep talking, Kuroudo, you're just digging your own grave that much deeper."

Akabane managed to retain his shredded dignity even when flustered. He cleared his throat softly and shifted in his seat. "Mm. Himiko-san, perhaps you would care to continue your reading?"

"Thank you. At least someone else around here knows the value of keeping to good business," Himiko said, and drew the next spin of fate's fickle hand.

--

TBC


	42. Stairway To Heaven part 4

I'm baaaack! Still writing, it just takes me a little longer these days due to things shifting around in my life a lot lately. :) Many, many thank yous for you, wonderful readers! I enjoy and appreciate all your comments; my only regret is that I can't always reply back right away. And now, on with the show – err, fic, I mean! :)

XXXXX

Tarot is not all-knowing; it cannot predict exact events, nor can it tell one exactly which path in life to take in solving a complex issue. It can only guide the user through self-intuition by opening the mind to ways which a person may not yet be aware of, utilizing the caster's own self-knowledge to spur discovery and resolution onward.

Even so, Himiko Kudou was not sleeping well this night. Ban had warned her. Had she begun what she could not control?

Silly, she knew, to place so much stock in it. They were just cards...weren't they? But the parallels...

Divine design was not a power to tamper so lightly with. She could vouch for that herself.

Onward she had pressed the draw; seven more cards had been drawn, more omens cast and future suspicions raised. Even Ban and Akabane had fallen silent, the former edgy, the latter solemn, when the specter of what had joined them all finally arose from the deck. Mugenjou, it seemed, was the birthplace for more than met the eye.

Surprisingly, it had been Ginji who had taken the sign with good cheer. Of all the people in the room who perhaps had the most reason to despise such a hornet's nest, he had reacted to the Tower card with his usual aplomb.

"That's a good thing, huh, Ban-chan? Look how broken up it is," he'd said, pointing to the collapsing structure depicted amidst a stormy background on the card. "Does that mean we're finally going to break the curse of the Brain Trust?"

"No, that's a bad sign, Gin," Ban had said, trying not to raise his voice too much and betray his anxiety. "The Tower means serious shit is going to go down at some point, and you better be well away from the splatters when it hits." Blue eyes had shot up to Himiko's, mirroring the unease she was feeling by then. "Dammit, Himiko, I told you this wasn't something to enter into lightly!"

Akane and Akabane had remained silent, perhaps musing over the implications of their cards. What powers lay in wait for mother and son, Himiko hadn't been able to fathom, much less explain, but both Akane and Akabane had seemed to understand the meanings of the hands they'd been dealt. Neither one was, of course, inclined to speak of it. Keeping secrets evidently ran in the family.

And Himiko...

She was lost in thought, dwelling on the implications of the tarot's rounds, when a soft blanket settled around her shoulders like virgin snowfall.

"Akabane?"

"It gets quite chilly some nights, now that the seasons are changing," he said, tucking the edges of it around her. "I would hate for you to be uncomfortable in our home." He brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. "What has you up at this hour, Himiko-san?"

She sighed. "I can't sleep." Everyone else had long since retired for the night – Akane in the master bedroom, Ginji in his own apartment across the hall, and Ban bunking in the office.

"Would you like a mild sedative? Or perhaps a glass of warm milk might help…"

"Thanks, but I don't think it'd help much. I'm too jittery. I keep thinking about that reading tonight." Himiko looked up at him. "Why are you up?"

Akabane shrugged. "I was cold. Midou-kun keeps stealing my covers."

Personal experience gained on past transport jobs had taught her that bedcovers had a distressing tendency to disappear whenever Doctor Jackal was around. "Liar," Himiko leveled at him as he came around the side of the couch to sit. "He kicked you out, didn't he?"

Akabane didn't prove the charge either way, but one of his usual enigmatic smiles quirked the corners of his lips. "He'll have to sleep sometime, and when he does…" He made a little snipping motion with his fingers.

Himiko managed a small laugh. "If territorial disputes are a problem, I can loan you my sleep perfume and that'll take care of things easily."

"I couldn't presume upon your hospitality like that," Akabane demurred. "Midou-kun simply needs to learn how to share, that's all."

"Good luck on that," Himiko snorted. "Getting anything out of him is like trying to squeeze water from a rock!"

"A worthwhile challenge, then," Akabane said, looking pleased by the prospect. "Ah, but that's what I enjoy about my Ban-kun. He's always so much fun to be with."

"You love him, don't you?" Himiko dared, not missing the affectionately possessive way he spoke of Ban.

Akabane's eyes flitted away as his face took on a thoughtful cast. "I am not sure that 'love' is the correct word for it, Himiko-san…at least, perhaps not in the same sense as the rest of the world uses it."

"You love him," Himiko repeated, a statement this time.

A long silence stretched between them like a fathomless chasm. Akabane finally bowed his head and spoke in a whisper so quiet she had to strain to hear it. "Yes."

Himiko was sorely tempted to reach out and take his hand in hers, but she resisted the impulse. He might see it as pity and to him such weakness would be intolerable. "It's not a failing to love someone, Akabane. I think that's what gives us humans our power in the first place," she ventured.

He didn't look at her, but a little smile – which could have meant anything – appeared at the corners of his mouth. "Is that so?"

"It can't hurt," Himiko said.

Akabane shook his head. "Yes, it can. It is possible for a person to die from a broken heart. There have been studies."

His eyes tentatively met hers, and she was shocked at the emptiness she glimpsed there. She'd heard references made to broken men before, but until now she hadn't understood the full meaning of such phrases.

She thought back to one night when she'd first started out as a transporter and had just met him. All three – Maguruma, Akabane and Himiko – had been recruited for a job that took them to Nagasaki, necessitating an overnight stay. During the night, a bad thunderstorm had passed through the area, and Himiko woke to a disturbing but not unfamiliar noise. She'd cried herself to sleep many times shortly after Yamato's death and recognized the sounds of someone in hysterics.

When she'd gone to investigate, Maguruma had cut her off abruptly, all but ordering her to go back to her room and not say a word. But before he'd succeeded in pushing her out the door of the room he and Akabane were sharing, Himiko had managed to catch a glimpse of a hellcat thrashing on the bed raving about corpses and battlefields while clawing with bloodied, torn fingernails at the sheets Maguruma was trying to tie him down with.

She'd never forgotten that image, though it had always lurked in the back of her mind since that time. The very next day Akabane had emerged from the room neat and tidied in his usual dress, smiling coolly and acting as if nothing on earth had ever happened. Neither he nor Maguruma made any mention of what went on the night before, and Himiko had gathered from the warning gleam in Maguruma's eye that it was best to pretend such.

Never again had she witnessed this cracking of Akabane's carefully constructed composure, and in time she had attempted to push it aside as one of those things that a person wasn't entirely convinced they'd experienced. But the thought refused to vanish, and seeing the vivid reminder now, here, of the demons that relentlessly tormented her sometime transport ally drove home the realization of what was at stake. In nurturing the very human part of his lover that still existed, Ban had, perhaps inadvertently, opened Akabane up to the possibility of future wounds that could literally kill him.

_I have never thought about my own death, therefore I cannot die._ Obviously that sentiment had changed recently, if Akabane was having misgivings about confessing his true emotions for his lover.

Himiko mulled her words before choosing them, leery of tripping over the wrong ones and sending Akabane into retreating silence. She still wasn't sure exactly what she felt for him, but the more they'd worked together, the more she'd come to like him, in spite of loathing his penchant for killing out of sport. Whatever else he was, he was a gentleman to a fault, unfailingly supportive in his advice, and held an inexplicable but genuine fondness for her, like that of an elder brother.

He'd given her plenty of cause to rant about his questionable loyalties and casual disregard for anything other than personal amusement during missions, but never once had he given her reason to doubt his honesty or his trust in her. He had been one of the only two transporters who had granted her a genuine respect when she'd entered the business, and for that she would forever keep a special place in her heart for him. She wanted to give him something as precious in return.

"The challenge is what makes things interesting," she said slowly. "Isn't that what you've told me? Without that risk, we might never gain something of real value."

Akabane raised a brow, looking at her with a little frown that suggested he was giving this idea consideration.

Encouraged, Himiko continued. "I thought I was going to die when I walked into our house and saw my brother dead at Ban's hand. It felt like – " she pressed a fist against her breast – "like he may as well have punched through _my_ chest and ripped out my heart instead." She looked away for a second to reign in the tears that threatened at the memory. "I know now why Ban did it, a little bit, at least. It doesn't take away the pain – it never will. But for all that, I'd never trade the time I had with Yamato, even knowing how his life ended. Ban, too. Those experiences, those memories are just too important for me to give up in lieu of forgoing the pain."

"You are saying that such vulnerability is worth the suffering it brings," Akabane murmured.

"Some weakness is," Himiko answered, daring to look him in the eye. "What's the alternative? To never grow, never feel, never learn…never become what we might be meant to be…"

"Transcendence." His frown deepened momentarily before receding into a contemplative smile. "Something Midou-kun once said to me was similar. He told me that sometimes weakness could be the greatest strength there was." Akabane lifted a bare hand and turned it over, his gaze roaming the jagged edges of the scar his palm bore. "I still don't understand that. But, perhaps, I think I have received some insight into those words at last…"

He looked up suddenly, fixing her with a penetrating stare. "Do you believe in destiny, Himiko-san?"

It was her turn to scowl. "I'm not sure what you mean by that."

"Fate," Akabane said. "The theory that there are certain events which were preordained by a higher power long before our time. That nothing we can do will change the course of these events, or prevent them from occurring."

Himiko's frown remained. "If you're talking about Mugenjou's Archive, then no, I don't believe that. They predicted that Makubex would destroy the fortress and that Ginji would fail in freeing the people of Lower Town from the Brain Trust. They may be calculating geniuses, but they can't measure the whole of the human heart. They're just like Ban said, nothing more than cowards."

"But still dangerous," Akabane said quietly. "Cowards can be the most lethal of enemies. They have nothing to lose – except their lives. I would be wary of the Advisor whose essence you summoned tonight."

Himiko didn't want to think about that. There'd been an awful lot of Swords in the round she'd played out, and the King of them all was the very one with whom she occasionally kept company. Besides, Akabane had already warned her once not to interfere with his pursuits, and she did her best to take him seriously at that. She preferred to think that he was merely being practical in his observations.

"They're still cowards," she repeated.

Akabane said nothing, only made a soft "mrrr"-ing noise with closed lips. Himiko watched him. He was far too secretive for her comfort. "You know something. What is it?"

His eyes shifted, though his focus was on her. "Too much exposition too soon spoils the surprise, after all."

Her anger kindled at the thought that he was withholding vital information because of the chance to brew a fight in his favor. Himiko knew she shouldn't take it so personally, knew that this was merely Akabane's nature and there was no use railing against it; he wasn't doing this just to be cruel – but all just the same, it bothered her. "This isn't a game!"

"To our opponents, it is," Akabane said, as blithely as though he were initiating polite dinner conversation. "If we expect to win on their turf, we must play the chessboard as it lies."

Himiko's blood settled a little; what he'd said was only common sense, a reminder of what Ban had told her: they couldn't just barge into Mugenjou unprepared and expect to defeat Babylon's faceless masters in a simple contest. Still, she would not bend to the invisible forces that bore down upon her with such malevolence. There was far too much at stake anymore. "I refuse to live in fear of people who hide behind illusions. That's not living, that's desperation."

"That may not be advisable," Akabane cautioned. "The curse you labor under, is that not the machinations of destiny as well? Considering that all but two of the known existing Voodoo Children have disappeared or been killed outright in the course of the Archive's predictions, it is safe to assume that the shamans hoping to procure your powers do _not_ have your best interests in mind. Yes?"

"The curse scares me," Himiko admitted. "But only because I don't know anything about it other than what you and Ban have told me. And you have to admit, Akabane," she said, giving him a stern glower, "that's precious little. You're still holding back and I don't appreciate it. This is _my_ life we're talking about here. I can handle it, whatever the truth is. I don't need protecting from the answers. I'm strong enough to make my own decisions."

"Indeed you are," Akabane replied after a moment, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "You remind me so much of her – " He stopped suddenly, looking away as though he'd said something he hadn't meant to – and knowing him, he hadn't planned on it.

She wasn't about to let him retreat gracefully. "Your mother?" Himiko prodded.

He shook his head. "Forgive me. I shouldn't have spoken of it."

"But you did," Himiko said. "So you may as well tell me before I find out on my own. If necessary I'll ask Ban, and you know how uncensored he can be," she threatened.

Akabane sighed defeat. Reluctantly, he looked up at her. "Yes," he said softly.

Himiko couldn't help herself. "Really?" she blurted, before realizing how offensive her surprise could sound.

Luckily Akabane wasn't inclined to take it as an insult. He nodded. "Mama might have had two children," he said, voice hinting at something like regret. "Some of my relatives...on my father's side, that is. We didn't get along very well. I think that the pressure they exerted caused Mama much distress, and she lost what would have been her daughter – my sister." He folded his hands across his lap, studying the elegant lines of his fingers. "I remember being rather disappointed when I learned of this. I had quite been looking forward to having a playmate."

Himiko waited, not saying anything, letting him unravel the story at his own pace.

Her patience paid off. Akabane resumed speaking. "Shortly thereafter Mama and I were separated, and I hadn't heard from her since. I attempted to contact her through several channels, but I had yet to receive any answer. I could only assume that she must have passed on...and then Ban-kun found her."

"But she was still out there," Himiko guessed. "Searching for you, even as you were looking for her."

Akabane shook his head. "The last time I saw my mother, I was but a young boy and we were both in a faraway land. I hadn't thought that it would do any good to continue searching, so I let go of such efforts some time ago. Besides, I had no wish to enable any desecrators, had she been laid to rest somewhere I was not aware of." His eyes slanted to the side. "We were not, shall we say, popular, with the rest of the community."

"Oh?" Himiko propped her chin on her hand. "I guess transporters are universally scorned," she mused.

"Not at all," Akabane said. "It was her practice that garnered the disapproval of the local populace." He hesitated. "Where I am from, myth is often stronger than reality, and those who believe in it above all else desire to make theirs a reality in itself."

"You're referring to Babylon City," she said quietly. Like Ban, she had long ago picked up on his unspoken revulsion for the nerve center of Mugenjou.

"If it pleases you to think so," Akabane responded cryptically, continuing when she would have questioned him on that. "Suffice it to say that necromancy is not an art that most people think favorably of."

"Necromancy – " Himiko's eyes narrowed in thought and then widened substantially when the reminder came to her seconds later. "Magicians bringing the dead back to life – "

"Or speak with them, in my mother's case," Akabane said. He was calm, but his eyes had taken on a guarded expression as he gauged how much he ought to share. He was not by nature the confessional type. "Mama was no mere parlour entertainer. She was very discriminating in her choice of clients. Which is not to say that she couldn't perform the full array of a true necromancer's abilities. Although I confess that I never had opportunity to test the truth of this. Mama herself will not speak of it unless she chooses to, and for her sake I dare not press the point. She preferred other avenues, you see. But she is not a lady to be trifled with, I ought to caution."

"I don't imagine that she is," Himiko agreed. "I'm just surprised that she'd choose death as her agent to work with. From what Maria told me, it's not exactly the most beloved of spellcrafts – and you know how much regular witches are already hated."

"Why shouldn't she? What is more closely entwined with life than death?" Akabane replied. "They are but two sides of a single coin. Power is power by itself, and is neither good nor bad. It becomes assigned thusly according to each person's beliefs and the actions that bear their intentions out. I assure you, my mother never acted in any dishonorable capacity when she worked with the spirit world."

"I never meant to imply that she did," Himiko said quickly. "I was just...curious, that's all. I don't understand why someone who was reviled by others would deliberately choose to bring down more of that wrath upon themselves."

"Opinion is just a byproduct of one's labors, and an unimportant one at that," Akabane said with a little shrug. "What matters is doing what one is best suited for. It just so happened that Mama was highly skilled at this type of magic, and she enjoyed holding seances for those who had lost their kin. Everything balances out in the end." He smiled suddenly. "Rather like how I discovered I was better fitted to be a transporter instead of a medical practitioner."

"Why did you give that up?" Himiko blurted. "Not exciting enough for you?"

Her heart sped into a skittish dance when she saw how fast Akabane's smile dropped. For a few breathless seconds Himiko thought that she'd crossed a line she shouldn't have, but he made no move to attack. He seemed to withdraw before her eyes, the light in his face dimming to a subdued remembrance.

"I'm sorry, Akabane. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for that to come out the way it did," Himiko nearly gasped, unsure whether her sudden anxiety stemmed from fear or guilt over her flippant remark. She genuinely hadn't meant to hurt him.

"I have never spoken of it to anyone except Ban-kun," he said at last, slowly, his voice streaming into a strange hollowness. "And even he does not know the whole of it, yet. Perhaps...perhaps it is for the best. And yet I cannot find the strength to deny him what he asks of me, though it costs me dearly in the end."

Akabane looked up, but avoided Himiko's eyes. "It was satisfying at first. Surgery is an art in itself. It takes intensive training to become an artist of the flesh, to repair that which was once damaged and grant new life to those trapped between worlds. But there comes a price for such meddling. In school and during your internship, they can teach you everything you need to know about techniques and procedures. But they never teach you how to defend yourself against the enemy that every surgeon fears. I don't think they know." He was blinking faster, trying to quell the rising rebellion of his dammed-up past, and his voice had grown increasingly softer. "No one seems to know. But that may be the most important part of training – how not to surrender to the lure of the reaper."

"Doctors aren't meant to be miracle workers," Himiko said, wishing that she could breach the invisible wall separating him from humanity and take him in her arms, give him the comfort neither of them had ever had when they needed it most. "All they can do is their best. They're only human too."

"Then what good are they?" Akabane let his gaze fall upon the shadows of the floor. Without his smile, he looked unbearably grim. His lips had a natural downturn to them when not curved in amusement. "What purpose do they have, if not to banish that which extinguishes life?"

Himiko knew she had no answer for that, and any other words meant as comfort would have been patronizing.

"Ban-kun says it was pride that drove me to madness. Perhaps he may have a point," Akabane mused. "I do not deny that I took pleasure in my work then, the same as I do now. But he does not know what it is to look upon the broken parts of a human body and attempt to put every piece back together as the original form was. Even then, it will no longer work in the way that its maker intended. He has never laid eyes upon these damaged ones and seen death in their faces while the body still lives."

Akabane closed his eyes. He was silent. So was Himiko. His voice had fallen to the barest whisper.

"I can still hear their voices. They never leave me. It is fate that I must bear witness to their anguish."

"Why do this to yourself? Why relive the torment over and over?" she whispered back, seeking to understand.

Akabane didn't answer right away. His head bowed and he put a hand to his forehead as if feeling a migraine coming on; the pinched tautness of his brows seemed to indicate such. "It is the way of the crossroads," he finally said. "There must be balance. I trade one nightmare for another, and I pave the path with blood as I go. That is the covenant I entered."

Watching him, Himiko thought of one of the lessons she'd briefly encountered while searching Maria Noches's vast libraries. Necromancy was not an art form she'd had any practice with; indeed, Maria had expressed firm approval when Himiko had told her that death was not something she took lightly in any capacity. In her associations with Akabane, and in meeting the newest puzzle of the picture that was his mother, Akane, Himiko thought she was feeling in the darkness a map to a dreadful enlightenment. Some dark magicians, she knew, had the talent to summon many minions to do their bidding, could revive allies through sheer force of will...and could gain untold power through the deaths of enemies.

Akabane turned his head slightly, and opened his eyes. They were a beautiful, luminous purple, but in their depths Himiko could see an oddly shifting stain, like that of bleeding midnight. It waxed and waned like a moonfall's passing, and when Akabane murmured to her, "Would you like to know the secret behind Doctor Jackal?" she was sure she wasn't just imagining the sudden flicker of red in the center of the pupils.

"I didn't know that there was a secret," she managed to say without faltering.

"It depends on whom you ask." Akabane closed his eyes again. Himiko had the eerie feeling that she was not talking wholly to him anymore now, but through him to...something. She didn't want to dwell on what. "The heart forges the will, and the will becomes blade. Not all powers are mine. I drink from the poisoned well and siphon the force I choose."

Himiko tried to dredge saliva into her suddenly dry mouth. "Are you...Jackal...Akabane...are you trying to tell me...something...some spirit is..._possessing_ you?"

"Possession is too easy a word for it, Himiko-san. But for practical purposes I suppose it fits." When he looked at her the red splotch seemed to surge for a moment, but then there was only clear, placid purple. "The shadow of death has always followed me wherever I go; this is no different."

He closed his eyes again and pressed a hand to his chest, over his heart. "Even now I can feel it. This writhing current...it flows in my veins, swells with every heartbeat. It is always with me, and I with it." Akabane's eyes slowly reopened – was it her imagination, or was the spark of dark bloodfire rekindled within them? "We are one and the same."

Himiko bit her lip and held back the shudder threatening to consume her. "Do you have a name for this...spirit?" she ventured.

"I used to call it the Other. It was the only name I could think to give to its whispers. Ban-kun calls it - " Akabane paused, his lips shaping and purring the name with a soft French accent - _"Mait' Carrefour."_

"Carrefour..." Himiko put a hand to her mouth, chewing on a few fingernails. "I know I've heard that, or seen it, somewhere..."

"Ask Lady Noches the sorceress-teller," Akabane said. "Surely she has been teaching you."

Himiko kept silent. She didn't want to admit what she was thinking – that this deadly force was part of the strange voodoo curse that had tainted her life and would steal her future, if she wasn't able to unlock the mystery in time. Instead, she turned the focus back to Akabane and exposed her long-held suspicion. "That's why you don't want others to stop your fights. Isn't it?" She remembered the way he'd politely but firmly cautioned her. "It's not just about prolonging your enjoyment of the battle. If someone else interferes, you'll _have_ to cut them down."

Akabane was silent, watching her with those ever-shifting eyes, his expression betraying nothing of what he felt, what he could be thinking.

"Why?" Himiko asked in a small voice, hating the helplessness she suddenly felt. "Don't you only choose your opponents based on the skill that attracts you most?" And even as she spoke, it hit her, robbing the breath from her lungs, the sickened pit in her stomach dropping further with each revelation when she finally uttered a tiny cry. "You _can't_ choose...can you?"

The red star flickered once more before wrapping itself in purple depths burnished by a sorrow conjuring relief and regret, for having entrusted her with the burden of this terrible secret. "It's too late for me, Himiko-san," Akabane said quietly, surprising her by reaching out and putting his scarred hand over hers. "But it's not too late for you. You have the same spirit as my mother. You have Ban-kun's grace and wit, and you have your own strength of heart. I think you will do well no matter where in life the road takes you."

He grasped her hand, curling his fingers over hers, and lifted her hand to his lips, bowing over it. "I am honoured that you have permitted me to stand as guardian for you. As such I feel it is my duty to offer you this advice."

"What advice?" Himiko was confused now, tears of frustration beginning to cloud her vision. "What do you mean, you've been guarding me? From what? The curse? I told you, I can't do anything about it unless you tell me what's going on. Akabane - what does Mugenjou have to do with me? Tell me! Please. It's not just my future I'm fighting for here, _it's my life!"_

"Heed the path you would now tread upon, Himiko-san." The softness in which the words were couched only made Akabane's velvet croon all the more sinister. "Once the crossroads have been breached there is no turning back. Not even for a gatekeeper." He offered a small, apologetic smile suddenly. "I would hate to see you prematurely removed from this world before it is your time."

She couldn't decide whether it was aimed at her curiosity about his secrets, or her insistence on pressing a path into the Dark City. Either way, it was a warning she'd be foolish to disregard. He was doing her the courtesy of good counsel as a true professional would, letting her know that she was poking into dangerous territory, before he would be compelled to take up the sword. Himiko was torn. No matter what choices she made, she was going to end up falling beneath death's scythe, it seemed.

To her surprise it was Akabane who steered the conversation back to safer waters. "Himiko-san, may I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Why do you consent to work alongside me? I don't mean just as business dictates. You do not fear me as the others do," he said, his head tilted curiously at her. "If my contracts displease you so, why do you continue to place yourself in such a position that you must bear witness to my deeds?"

She thought that over. She'd often asked herself that question, in the early days of their tenuous alliance.

"I trust you," Himiko said quietly, after a long time.

"Why?"

He had a right to ask, of course. Who could say that they would ever trust one such as him, a man with a penchant for killing every opponent that ever challenged him? Himiko thought back to a story Maguruma had once told her, shortly after he'd run a mission with Akabane. The client had double-crossed them, tried to head off the Get Backers before Jackal had had his chance to fully immerse himself in the fight. This in itself was bad enough, but to Akabane, it held a special significance.

According to Maguruma, Akabane had acted almost petulant, insulted even, when the client accused him of betraying their original agreement, and to anyone else wary of death's not-so-gentle tap, it might have appeared that way. But Himiko thought now of Ginji, who'd filled in some of the details of that incident that she hadn't been privy to, including the way that Jackal had abruptly given back the stolen blood, even though he could have just as easily slain the rest of the client's crew and taken on Ginji himself.

Ginji had told her another story, of the time they'd all gone back to the Beltline to battle their way into Babylon and rescue Makubex. After delivering an information disc that Hevn had hired him to transport to Mugenjou, Akabane had wanted to come along. The rest of the group had ignored him – in fact, they'd walked off and left him behind. And though Jackal's first motive for wanting to join the quest was clear, Ginji had described the lingering expression in Akabane's eyes as being...hurt. Abandoned.

Trust was a huge issue for anyone, Jackals included. Ban had foreseen this and incorporated it into his agenda accordingly. Himiko wondered if this was why the two of them had been able to grow so close to one another in spite of their obvious differences. As the descendant-heir of witches, Ban could tell anybody a thing or two about how it felt to be treated with latent suspicion.

"I trust you," she repeated, stronger this time. "I do, Akabane. You can be manipulative, yes, and I don't doubt you have your reasons for doing things the way you do that you never share with anybody else. But you're honest where it counts and you follow through on that without fail, and that makes all the difference to me."

Her instinct hit head-on. Akabane's eyes grew noticeably damp, and the cold tension in his face melted. "Midou-kun said such a thing once to me too," he murmured.

"That's why you've stayed with each other," Himiko said. "Whatever it is between you two, you have something there that each of you can relate to. You trust each other to honor that."

Akabane's ragged sigh unfettered the deeply-bound emotions he could not put word to. "My Midou Ban-kun. He would kill for me. And I would die for him."

"What about living?" Himiko asked gently. "Doesn't that bring you pleasure too?"

His smile returned, slowly, small, but it was there. "It does now."

Himiko offered him a smile of her own to match. "I'm glad. For both of you."

"Nice to know we have your blessing, brat."

She and Akabane looked around to see a hair-tousled, drowsy-eyed Ban leaning against the wall. Without his glasses, he seemed both youthful for and aged beyond his years. It was the eyes, Himiko decided. When he wanted to, Ban could appear unusually open, at peace with both himself and the world no matter what hurricanes menaced in the distance.

"How long have you been there?"

It was Akabane who answered. "Long enough." He was not smiling, but neither was he frowning, and the gaze he turned upon his lover spoke volumes of its quiet passion. "Did we wake you, Ban-kun?"

Ban pulled the belt of his robe snugly around his waist and padded over to the couch. "Nah. I got up for some water and heard voices out here."

"Eavesdropping," Himiko said with a scowl. She wondered how much of her and Akabane's conversation he'd heard.

Ban shrugged, neither denying nor confirming it. He nudged over Akabane, who didn't seem to mind the ungentle push, and sat beside him. One arm snaked around the transporter's shoulders, and Akabane was content to lean into the inviting embrace.

"The catch to sleeping with a human hot water bottle is," Ban drawled as his fingers played with a few tendrils of Akabane's hair, "after a while, you get used to the heat, so when it goes missing, it's harder to fall back asleep."

Akabane tilted his head forward and kissed him. "Stop stealing my blankets and I will gladly keep you comfortable."

A corner of Ban's mouth quirked upward in a slight smirk. He bent his head in closer and kissed Akabane back. "Stop lying about stealing my blankets and I'll give you extra incentive to stay under the covers with me."

"Midou-kun." The chuckle was soft, deep in its affection. "We are embarrassing Himiko-san."

"And the problem with that is?" But Ban relented and let go of Akabane. He looked at his half-sister, herself a witch by virtue of the bloodline they carried. "Well, it's not hard to see why you two hang out with each other. Two peas cut from the same pod. Emphasis on cut." He snickered at some macabre humor only he understood.

Himiko raised a brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ban went to push his glasses up on the bridge of his nose out of habit, remembered he wasn't wearing them, and changed his motions to pass his fingers through the top of his hair. "Ginji never could quite figure out why you'd work together, even after the melon fiasco. But I pegged it from the start."

He looked at Akabane. "Himiko doesn't commit lightly. Sometimes she's too damn stubborn." He ignored the glare she gave him for that and continued. "But if you tell her true, and you commit to her, she'll give you heart and soul and then some. That's a friendship not easy to come by. On that much Ginji was right."

Akabane appeared somewhat puzzled. "You are saying that...she would fight for...for me? Beyond a business courtesy?" A little squiggle of his brows pinched them together. "But I do not understand."

Himiko, however, did, and she could have hugged Ban for that. She put her hand on Akabane's again. "If we fight for you, it's not because we're just professionals doing what professionals are supposed to do, look after one another. It's because you're our friend, and we care about you...even if you don't care about yourself."

Akabane was surprised. "You would call me friend?"

"Why not? You've been more of a friend to me than most people I know," Himiko said.

He blinked at her, a muted delight softening his angular features even more. "Really?"

"Really," Himiko insisted.

Akabane looked on the verge of another smile, but hesitation withdrew it. His gaze, free of all traces of blood-simmer, strayed to the floor. "I had a friend, once. He called me true to him, even when we faced each other on opposite sides to bring our swords to bear. But I do not know if I can be a friend to anyone now."

"I think you can," Himiko said, seeing the way that Ban was watching him. "How does the thought of having friends make you feel?"

"It...it is weakness. Weakness I dare not indulge. But...I look at Ban-kun, and I see what it has done to him, and...and the temptation is there." Akabane spared her a cautious glance. "I...like it," he murmured.

"Think about that, then," Himiko advised. "Friends can bring a lot of enjoyment."

He lost himself in momentary thought. "Yes, that is true for some. One has only to look at Ginji-kun to see how happy he is made by the pleasures of others' company. I like him very much, though I think that he does not return my sentiment." Akabane shrugged. "I understand that. He speaks from a place that I have yet to comprehend fully." His gaze came to rest upon the floor again. "Maybe some day I will learn the truth of it."

"Maybe," Ban said, his tone noncommittal as he stroked his lover's raven hair.

"I think you already have," Himiko said. "A little, at least. But surely that's better than nothing?"

Akabane pondered this. "I suppose it is always useful to have certain goals to strive for."

Ban nodded. "Bloodless academics always gets my vote." He ruffled Akabane's hair. "And you know, it may take a while, but everyone always finds the place where they belong. You too. I'm not giving you up so easily."

The Jackal was curious. "You seem to place great faith in something so fickle and unwieldy, these sentimentalities. I hope for your sake, Ban-kun, that your faith is not misplaced."

Ban studied him. "We'll find out together, won't we?"

This seemed to reassure Akabane, and he leaned in to share a kiss. Himiko granted them their moment and looked away, though she kept watch from the corner of her eye.

When the affections had ceased Ban stretched and rolled slowly off the couch. "I think I feel a dream coming on. I'll let you share it if you come with," he said to Akabane, holding out a hand as he stood.

Akabane took his hand and nuzzled the back of it before releasing it. "In time, Ban-kun. I wish to speak privately with Himiko-san first."

"Okay." Ban bumped Himiko's cheek with his knuckles. "Don't stay up too late shooting the breeze, kid."

"'Night, Ban."

When he had gone back to the temporary bedroom Akabane looked to her. "I ask a favor of you, my Lady Poison."

"What?"

"Will you read for me?"

She blinked. "With the cards? Now?"

"Yes."

"I don't know," Himiko managed with a shaky laugh to offset her nervousness. "After the reading we did tonight, maybe we should cut our losses now…"

Akabane inclined his head. "It is your discretion. I trust your judgment. Only I'm curious to know."

"Know what?"

"What part destiny has decreed for me."

She considered his request. "I thought that was already determined," she said, gingerly sidestepping the issue of his current profession.

Akabane's eyes slid half-closed in thoughtful recollection. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. There are, shall we say, variables in anyone's chart that may have the power to create some interesting alterations." He shrugged, and a standard smile curled up the sides of his mouth. "Well. It is of no consequence. I was merely dabbling in mild interest."

Himiko frowned. Offhand, she could find no fault in granting him this simple favor. It was her nerves, she told herself, that were unsettled by the turn of events so recently faced down and the formidable omens posed by divination. It was a lot to risk, drawing such attention to oneself...

But no great rewards came without great risk.

"All right. Let me get the cards."

Akabane was content to stay on the couch while Himiko brought forth the tarot spread once more. This time she chose a five-card method, deciding that it would be better to keep things simple. She shuffled the cards and made the spread, then bade Akabane to turn them over, one at a time. The first he revealed was the Eight of Swords.

Himiko didn't bother to suppress her groan. "Again. Maybe we should have Ban do this, maybe he's a better witch than I am - "

Akabane tapped the card on the coffee table. "It is not such a surprise, Himiko-san. After all, a sword is my weapon. Such is natural in the turn of things, as I see it."

"And it also means poor outcome," Himiko said. "You might not like these results, Akabane. The eight means weakness in action. Add in the symbolic interpretation of the number itself and you have quite a stumbling block."

"It also means new possibilities and the freedom with which to act on those, does it not?" He smiled at her, dismissing the apparent ills. "It would not be wise to condemn the cast before it has even begun in earnest."

"Okay...it's your funeral," Himiko said, then bit her tongue, wishing she'd thought better of it.

Akabane flipped the next card. Himiko tried to keep a straight face. The Lovers – how fitting, given his and Ban's unique bond. "This is a past influence," she explained. "It means the beginning of a meaningful relationship."

"Perhaps it is referencing the night we met the Get Backers," he teased, and they both couldn't help a small chuckling at that. He turned over the third card.

"Again." Himiko eyed the card with some hesitation. This was the same card he'd drawn earlier, during the Celtic Cross reading. Temperance represented judgment, but it could also be taken as a passage to the afterlife – something which Doctor Jackal was only too eager to offer his enemies.

"Interesting, that," Akabane agreed, and drew his slender fingers across the next card. "Hmm. I do believe this is the first time I have located a cup card."

"It fits you," Himiko said. "You're always saying how you want to enjoy your fights. The search for pleasures can be endless."

"As well as disappointing, on occasion." Akabane was not smiling now, but was regarding the cards with an intense study. She couldn't tell what he was thinking as his eyes slowly passed over the four overturned hands.

"What is it that you're _really_ after?" she asked softly, trying to discern for herself what such a suit might indicate for this self-avowed hedonist, a man who formerly had little use for the trappings of humanity.

Akabane raised his eyes to hers. But he didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached for the last card.

The fifth and final display was Death.

Himiko looked at Akabane. His smile completely masked whatever he might be making of this revelation. She knew the card itself didn't necessarily mean literal death, but it was not an encouraging omen in light of Akabane's habits, to her way of thinking. "So much for that..."

She started to gather up all the tarot cards when he suddenly laid a hand on her wrist. "Lady Poison?"

"Yes?"

"May I read for you, now? As you have done for me?" When she gave him a questioning look, he said, "It is only fair, is it not?"

"I guess so." Himiko thought for a second, and quickly added, "But if I see one Sword in my forecast the deal's off."

Akabane gave a little bow of his head. "I do not require the tarot for this time. We will use another deck. Please excuse me for a moment."

Puzzled, Himiko watched him get up and go to the kitchen, carefully looking through some drawers until he located four additional decks of cards. Akabane took out the packs from their plastic bag and carried them back to the table, and when he set them down she saw that they were ordinary playing cards.

"Ban-kun likes to have plenty of cards for poker night with Ginji-kun and Fuyuki-san. Sometimes they get lost or destroyed during...disagreements." He smiled. "This is a very simple divination that my mother taught me as a boy. I drew a round for Ban-kun once, not long ago. He was rather unamused by his results." Akabane paused, then added, "Particularly when his financial future turned up looking not so terribly rosy, if you understand."

Himiko gave a short laugh at that. "Okay. How do we do this?"

Akabane shuffled the cards several times; she noted the grace with which he handled them, as he touched anything else – a master, a professional of the will. He set the whole large deck face-down on the table. "Take the first two cards of every round and set them aside. Draw the third card and tell me what you see, and I shall interpret."

"All right." Himiko did as she was told and lifted the third card she picked from the pile. It was an ace of diamonds.

"It seems you have better luck than Ban-kun," Akabane chuckled. "This means you will be fortunate in obtaining luck in any of several areas: money, skill, or courage."

"I'll take the money," Himiko agreed, and dealt another round. The next card she revealed was also an ace of diamonds. She looked to Akabane for explanation.

"This is very good, Himiko-san. Two of a kind means that your luck will be multiplied," he said, his smile warm with satisfaction.

"I can use all the luck I can get." Himiko did another round. "Ace of hearts."

Akabane tapped his chin. "Also a good sign. You will enjoy the support of many people, be they allies, family members, or even people you may not have yet met."

"I could get to like this," Himiko said with a small grin. "Are you sure you didn't stack these for entertainment purposes?"

He looked affronted. "I assure you, certainly not! Cards are sacred," Akabane sniffed.

"I bet Makubex would have something to say about short-run anomalies," Himiko said. She drew another set. "What do knaves mean?"

Akabane's face went dark at the sight of the card.

"Not good, I take it," she guessed. "So what's the forecast?"

"Knaves indicate enemies," Akabane said after a brief hesitation. "The fact that it is a spade card is all the more disturbing. Do you know what spades symbolize, Himiko-san? They are weapons of war. It means that this is an enemy who will use any means necessary to attack – including violence."

"Brain Trust does have a knack for butting into everyone's business, doesn't it?" Himiko sighed. "Well, that's nothing we don't already know." She pulled another round, and this one too was a knave of spades.

Akabane did not look pleased. Duplicates in a draw meant that the first card's energy would be multiplied; this held true whether the card bore positive or negative predictions. To have more than one spade card meant that Himiko's enemy, whoever he, she, or it was, would be twice as terrifying to face in battle.

"Maybe we should stop, call it a night..." Himiko suggested, seeing the way his mouth was thinning in displeasure. "I know they're just cards, but..."

"We are in the crossroads. There is only one path forward, now." Akabane started to reach for the second knave and stopped, his scarred hand hovering over it as though it were a sharp-toothed reptile poised to snap back. He withdrew his hand and shifted on the couch. "I have only seen but a few who ever drew two of a kind with the knaves. Mama has seen three in her lifetime. But one person...one I know of...once drew all four in the same reading. Never has either of us seen such a thing," he finished on a harsh whisper.

Himiko could feel his unease creeping into her bones. Four knaves, four spades...all the more harrowing when one considered what the number four itself meant. "What happened to the person with the four knaves reading?"

Akabane's eyes flicked to hers; she could see the barest of restlessness sheathed within. "I don't know."

He was lying, she sensed, but she had a feeling it would not be wise to press him on that just now. Himiko licked the tips of her fingers and drew another set. To both of their reliefs, her card was another ace – hearts, this time.

She drew more sets. Ace of diamonds, ace of hearts, ace of diamonds once more, and the last was the fourth ace of hearts. Akabane's surprise mirrored her own. "My, my, Himiko-san! This rather makes up for those knaves, doesn't it?"

"I suppose you're going to tell me that I'm the only person who has ever drawn four of a kind in the good luck department."

"Not necessarily," Akabane said. "I too have seen this done before on rare occasion. In fact, Ban-kun and Ginji-kun both drew four of a kind with the hearts when Mama and I read for them."

"But no diamonds for either of those two," Himiko guessed.

"Well, not quite. Ban-kun didn't get any diamonds, but Ginji-kun managed to pull two of the aces from that suit. Needless to say Ban-kun was rather put out to learn of this when Mama informed him. Though Ginji-kun did offer to share one of his aces with him."

"He has only slightly better money-sense than Ban does," Himiko said. She went to turn over a new card and a third knave of spades leered up at her. After several seconds of silence, she sighed. "Well, they say there's no gain without some pain..." She caught Akabane watching her and looked up, confused and feeling more than a little edgy now by his reaction to these particular cards. Jackal looked like he was expecting an attack at any moment.

Himiko swallowed the chilly knot attempting to tie itself in the middle of her throat; was it just imagination or were her hands getting cooler? "I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid of any knave, real or not," she repeated, and pulled one more set of cards.

Akabane looked on the verge of flight or fight. He wore his usual calm, controlled cloaking, but his hands were stiff, fingers curved into claws in his lap, and his body was taut, alert for any change in setting. Clearly this meant a great deal more to him than it did to Himiko.

She debated for just a minute the wisdom of proceeding, if it was going to cause him this much upset. The good feeling brought on by the lighthearted cheer of the previous aces had promptly deflated at the first knave's appearance; by the third, a sour pit had begun to hollow out her stomach. She could handle the temporary discomfort, but what of Akabane, who had apparently garnered this trick from his mother and seemed to hold a serious regard for it? It wasn't like him to find such signs bothersome, let alone worrying. What did he know that she didn't?

She'd come this far; might as well dive into the whole enchilada, as Ginji would say. She turned over the remaining card to complete the process of that which fortune had given birth to, the dark haunting of Mugenjou's cradle having raised new windows into the future.

Knave number four, spade and all, greeted her with a decidedly malicious smirk.

"I'm sorry, Himiko-san."

She looked up at him. He was paler than she'd ever seen him before.

"I'm sorry," he murmured again. "Regrettably...one good fortune does not cancel out a bad one."

"It's all right," she assured him. "It's just a game...right? You couldn't have known."

"But I cast the fate into motion. Your fate." Akabane looked almost sadly at her, then. "Truly, I am very sorry, Himiko-san. I did not intend for you to become entangled in this web."

She felt cold, suddenly; she did her best to put it aside. Himiko faked a calm smile. "It's okay, Akabane. Now you can say that you've seen two people who drew four of a kind in knaves."

He didn't smile back. "Ban-kun faced his destiny bravely, too."

XXXXX

TBC


	43. Stairway To Heaven part 5

Dueling with destiny was something Himiko had long become accustomed to. Whether it was the voodoo curse that continually nipped at her heels, or the on-again-off-again tolerance she had for Ban, or her source of employable income, mortal combat seemed to be an inevitable thread woven into the patchwork of her life.

She'd long thought that a life without such tension was something beyond her ken, an illusion available to other people -

normal people -

a luxury that she couldn't afford to indulge. And unavailable luxuries were best set adrift, put out of mind or at least permitted only as an abstract concept. Less complicated that way, and less frustration at being denied a prize ring well out of one's reach.

But Himiko was also human, and just as prone to imagination as anyone else, and not for want of effort had she tried to conjure a future for herself that didn't involve death or fighting or complications. In this, she knew, she lacked a certain element that Ban had. He'd lived most of his life on the run and so hadn't been bothered with fancies of growing old, of being carefree. His future, in his mind, had already been set and the only need to concern himself with was an outlet for his baser instincts – shelter, food, the occasional nicotine pleasure.

Himiko had had the stability – what there was of it – when her brother Yamato was alive; she had been able to spend a portion of her time dwelling on many thoughts, some typical, most not. What mattered was that she'd had those opportunities and thus, that conduit.

Ban's conduit – literally – wouldn't come for years later, when he crossed paths with the legendary Lightning Emperor in the shadows of the heart of darkness. Or maybe he himself had provided the catalyst: in prompting Ginji to renounce his deadly persona, Ban had inadvertently touched off a chain of destiny that seemed to wind endlessly throughout past and present, snaking through some of the most unlikely detours and creating a doorway to an as-yet undefined future.

She remembered the card readings she'd taken part in a week ago. Divination wasn't all-knowing. It was only a suggestion, a nod in a particular direction. The real mapping would have to be plotted and charted by the ones whose futures were under that oath. New shadows cast doubt upon previous ideas even as fresh inspiration had begun to blossom. But the future was there. It lived in their hearts, thrived in their minds. Now that destiny had been called into question.

Himiko thought again of the spades whose blunt edges threatened the security promised by the diamonds, and the mystic wheel that spun them all round its whims as universal temperance delivered its judgment upon the tower built by their shared fates. Through the kingdom's lord's mercy, Ban had found a way to navigate his own course, and in turn was passing the legacy on to his lover, Akabane.

That the offering had been accepted at all had come as no small surprise to the ones who knew both men; that it had been acted upon in the good faith in which it was intended grew to be an even more startling discovery. Himiko had always thought of Akabane as a kind of natural force in his own right, as dependable as rain and more inscrutable than fog, and deadlier than any tornado unleashed. She hadn't been able to picture him as anything else until one day Ban – with Kuroudo's permission – had whipped out a couple of sepia-tinted and black-and-white photographs for evidence that Doctor Jackal had indeed once performed operations not related to transporting.

Akabane, she knew, would not speak of this. At least not directly. The confession she'd witnessed the night of the cards had only whetted the blade of mystery overhead and deepened the silent urging within her to learn how she could seize the reins of her own runaway peril. The Queen still waited, watched. The Queen would not be denied. She, Himiko, must soon choose between action or reaction, or risk being purged and rewritten into an unfathomable horror.

The steam settled from the pot she'd been heating. She put the lid over it and turned off the stove burner to allow the contents to conform as they should. She'd gotten so skilled at brewing perfumes that she could mix most of them from memory. Himiko left her batch of oblivion scent and joined Akabane out by the couch while Akane tended the laundry. They were waiting for Ban and Ginji to return from a retrieval assignment so that they could all go out for pizza at Paul's.

She wasn't the only one contemplating different avenues. Akabane had always been prone to doodling marks on available surfaces, usually with his knives and often when he was bored, awaiting his chance for excitement during a long run. The difference this time was that he had begun to put form to some of his scribbles, shape and meld them into familiar patterns. If idle hands were a devil's tools, Akabane had a definite ability to paint some of the most damning images ever created – whether the canvas was flesh or paper.

She sat beside him and peered over his shoulder, inasmuch as she wouldn't be intruding on his personal space, studying the fine graphite lines he was sketching in what appeared to be an outline of a thick, grassy field. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure yet." In contrast to his knife-wielding ability, the pencil's movements across the pad of paper in his lap were slow, measured. But no less precise – owing to his talent as a surgeon, most likely. "It will probably be someplace I have seen once. The reminders continue to surface, so that is what I focus on. The picture completes itself."

"May I?"

"You may." He set down his pencil and handed – somewhat cautiously, Himiko thought – the sketchpad over. She examined what he'd drawn so far. It might have been a peaceful scene evoking tranquility...except for the barbed wire fencing corralling off the background and the clouds of smoke darkening one upper corner of the page.

Himiko gently lifted the top sheet to see if he'd drawn anything else. There were other, similarly disturbing sketches. A no-man's-land littered with discarded cigarette butts and hastily abandoned armaments. A crude hut inhabited by faceless and stooping human shapes. Figures long since fallen, awash with both tears from the heavens and the blood seeping into the torn ground's embrace. It saddened her to think that these were real memories staining Akabane's soul.

There were other drawings as well. Simple plays of lighted corners; common objects viewed from odd angles. Normal landscapes, with parks or flowers, or the sun and sand and surf welcoming a fresh morning. Many of these included people, some of whom she knew. There was Ban, basking in the late afternoon's bronze of another job well done. She recognized Ginji dozing off at the Honky Tonk's counter, and Kazuki sipping tea with Juubei and Uryuu Toshiki. There was a scene of Hevn and Ban having a stare-down, probably over Hevn's negotiation fee. Paul pouring his signature coffee for some random patrons while his waitresses bustled about cleaning dishes. Maguruma scanning the highway on a drive. Makubex hunched over a computer monitor.

Some were clearly meant to be amusing in their outlandish shapes and dramatic postures. Himiko wasn't able to help the giggle that snuck out of her mouth when she turned to a page containing a cartoon Ban and Shido brawling inside a cage while flocks of loose animals looked on outside zoo gates. She turned another page and there were Ban and Maguruma arguing over whose vehicle was the better as they raced said transports - the wrong way - down a busy street. Turn the page again, and Akabane had even sculpted a slyly deprecatory caricature of himself having a war of the quills with a porcupine, a cat, and Oscar Wilde. The portrait was aptly titled, "He Who Dies With The Most Toys Wins."

She looked up at him with a grin alight on her lips, amused even more by the straight-faced demeanor he presented. Only the mirth dancing in his eyes – the one part of him he'd never been able to completely conceal – clued Himiko into Akabane's curiosity about her inspection. "These are really good. How long have you been making them?"

Akabane shrugged. "A few weeks. It was Ban-kun's idea, actually. I came home one day to find that pad and a set of pencils placed by my laptop. Though I confess, I haven't the foggiest notion what he expects me to do with them. So I started drawing whatever came to mind. It's something to do when I'm not working, anyway." He paused. "Sometimes Ban-kun asks me to draw things for him. He speaks of images he has lived, and I commit them to paper for his benefit." Akabane looked pleased by this. "I think he likes them. He doesn't put them up on the refrigerator, but he does keep them in a folder by his side of the bed."

"They're great," Himiko told him as she handed back the art book. "You have real talent there, Akabane. Good enough to go professional, if you were interested."

He smiled and demurred. "There is more than a bit of truth to the myth of the starving artist, I'm afraid. I could survive if I wished, but Ban-kun would not appreciate the necessary sacrifices. Wan-san has already issued his fourth collection statement this month. You may have noticed that tonight's dinner will be the first time in a while since Ban-kun has been there. Wan-san knows I can pay my bill."

She laughed with him. "Ban'll never learn. If Ginji's not burning holes in his wallet, his own fingers are too slippery to hold the money long enough to bank it. How do you put up with him?"

"I took a cue from Hevn-san," Akabane said. "And learned the fine art of negotiation. Of course," he added with a lethal purr and flash of pointed steel, "there are times when blunt force works well enough for my purposes."

He picked up his pencil again and returned to the scene he'd been working on. Himiko watched, as fascinated by the artist himself as she was with his creation. When engaged in routine tasks Akabane embodied a kind of harmony that was soothing in its repetition, albeit with an undercurrent of quiet fury. Now that this flow had been tempered by Ban's taming hand, the calm was authentic, simplicity without discontent. And it showed in Akabane's presence, whether or not he was aware of it. His eyes were focused but not hard. His body was relaxed, but there was no silent coil of tension, as would have been if he were expecting a fight, or the possibility thereof.

From time to time he would pause in his sketching, raise the pencil and tap its end against his lower lip, then continue with the outline. Sometimes his actions seemed awkward, not from any lack of grace but from the hesitancy of one unused to exploring foreign territory. Sometimes he would move the pencil in strong, sure lines, more confident in his expression as the image took on concrete form. The sun, streaming in through half-shuttered blinds on one side of the room, lent forgiving highlight to their companionship. Barefoot, dressed in a plain white shirt and black trousers, with the soft waterfall of his dark hair around his face and shoulders, Akabane looked very handsome - truly a man at peace with the world and his reborn place in it.

"How long does it take to brew the oblivion scent, again?"

"Not much longer. I need to add the forget-me-not powder and finish drying it. Then it'll be ready," Himiko answered.

Akabane didn't look up from his sketch. "You are using a new compound this time."

"Yeah. Maria sold me some bases that have a longer shelf life, so I'm experimenting to see if any of them affect the 24-hour window. I'm hoping I can extend that, but so far no luck. Oblivion works best when it's fresh anyway. How'd you guess?"

"It is heavier than your usual batch," Akabane said, referring to the thick but pleasant smell permeating the apartment.

Himiko smiled. Working with him had its benefits. "You're getting better at perfume lessons."

He favored her with a brief smile in return. "The pupil is only as good as the teacher, after all. You have improved as well, I daresay. Your poison scents - " He stopped drawing suddenly and set his tools aside, eyes widening a fraction. "Oh dear."

"Something wrong?"

Akabane unfolded his legs from the couch and stood up to fetch a pair of sandals by the front door. "I threw Ban-kun's shirts into the hamper and forgot to check the pockets. If Mama finds any loose cigarettes she's going to pitch a fit, Ban-kun will retaliate, and it'll be the Battle of Thermopylae all over again." He smiled. "Please excuse me, won't you? You're welcome to help yourself to a drink in the meantime. Assuming Ginji-kun hasn't dawdled as usual and required Ban-kun to track him down, it shouldn't be much longer for them to return."

While he left to rescue his lover's beloved smokes from the air pollution police Himiko tended to her perfume mix, adding in the last ingredient and stirring until she had a crumbled, gritty substance. Once the granules had congealed and dried sufficiently, she would package the mix in several bottles, reserving the smaller ones for immediate use. When plugged with a stopper the trigger mechanism on a single bottle of poison perfume contained a trace amount of nitroglycerin; this was what propelled the noxious scents outward whenever Himiko used one.

That done, she turned her attention back to the living room. Akabane hadn't yet come back up from the building's laundry room, so she assumed he must have discovered some contraband at about the same time as his mother, and was trying to placate her wrath. No stranger to temptation she, Himiko quickly padded over to the couch and picked up the sketchpad again.

She flipped past the drawings she'd already seen and looked for more. She wasn't disappointed. Among her first findings was a portrait of a man clad in traditional ceremonial garb, a large wide-brimmed dome of a straw hat shielding most of his face from view. He was clutching a katana in one hand, outstretched, plowing a path into a presently blank field. The other hand was, curiously, resting protectively over a pipa strapped to his side.

The man's shape, disguised though it was by the voluminous clothing he wore, looked nothing like Akabane's, or Ban's. Himiko wondered who it could be.

She turned back to the pages she'd seen, thumbing through them until she found the one of Ban sipping his coffee. Himiko had a momentary pang of regret for the act she was about to commit, and almost didn't follow through with it. She turned to the pages of the war scenes again, looked at those, and then went back to the picture of Ban. Sighing, she took hold of the paper and carefully tore it free from the binding. She had an idea and prayed that when her perfidy was discovered, Akabane would come to see it in the same light she did.

Voices from the hallway, low but fierce, caught her attention. Himiko dropped the sketchpad and ran to her backpack in the kitchen. As delicately as she could, she tried to stuff the drawing inside it, nestling it between some books so it wouldn't get crumpled. She scuttled back to the couch just in time to see Akane storm inside the apartment, one arm loaded with an impossible mountain of clean, folded laundry while her other batted away a fussing Akabane. He was holding not cigarettes but a silver lighter – one recognized by Himiko as Ban's favorite, given to him by her brother – which in Akane's eyes was just as incriminating.

"I tell him once, I tell him a hundred, thousand times. No more stink in the good guest towels!" the elder Akabane fumed.

"Mama, it was an accident. Ban-kun's trying to quit, but it's not an easy habit to break." Kuroudo sighed and tried again to help her with the pile, ignoring her hiss of rebuff as he managed to unload some of the burden. "Give him a little credit at least, and go easy on him, please? He's only doing it because he doesn't know any better."

"Then teach him better," Akane said, shaking a small but menacing fist. She slapped a stack of folded clothes onto the dining table and began to sort them, swatting at her son when he attempted to help. _"Dummkopf!"_ She snatched up the lighter and bopped the heel of her palm off of Akabane's forehead. "Sometimes, you are a very foolish boy, Karawan."

Himiko couldn't believe what she'd just seen, and had to bite her knuckles to keep from laughing out loud. A stunned Akabane stared at his mother and growled, "I beg your pardon? What did you just say to me?"

Akane dropped the lighter onto the table and continued as though she hadn't heard his outrage. "You go too soft on Ban-kun. He has bad habit, you ask him to stop, he refuses. So take matters into your own hands. Make him stop. He will learn."

"I _have_ tried," Akabane grumbled, perching his hands on his hips in a rather petulant pose. "Many times, Mama. I keep telling you, it's an addiction that takes time to correct."

"You have one hundred and eight corrections at your disposal," Akane returned with the finality of a thunderclap. "Use them!"

She grabbed a sorted stack of laundry and carried it off to the bedrooms, leaving one very flustered son in her wake. Akabane glared after her, shaking his head and lifting a hand in exasperated dismissal.

Himiko was lost. She buried her laughter in one of the couch pillows.

"It's not funny, Himiko-san."

She laughed harder.

"I said, it's _not_ funny." Akabane came to stand before her, arms crossed over his chest, a severe line frozen on his face as he presented his best stern front.

His salvaged dignity was of no use now. Himiko raised her face from the pillow, blinking away tears, and found the sight of him staring disapprovingly down at her even more hilarious. Poor, poor Akabane – so much for a man's home being his castle. He was completely owned by Ban, and, when the retriever wasn't around, overruled by Akane.

He seemed to know it too, because his lips twitched even as he tried to keep them taut, and his voice caught on a suspicious gurgle when he spoke. "I fail to see the amusement here, Himiko-san..."

"You know what they say, Akabane," she managed to get out between giggles. "Denial isn't just another river in Egypt!"

His eyes pinched shut. "That is an unbearably terrible and overused pun that needs to be put out of its misery." He opened his eyes again and scowled at her. "And my ears have twice now been assaulted with it within the past five minutes."

Himiko wiped some of the tears out of her face as she processed that. "You mean - "

"Ban-kun isn't the only one picking up bad habits around here," Akabane said, before pent-up frustration got the best of him and he broke down, allowing helpless laughter to bubble forth.

"He always did have a knack for sharing the worst words that not even my brother would let slip around me," Himiko snickered, envisioning the indomitable Akane easily turning silly wordplays into scalding verbal weapons.

Akabane sighed and muttered something about jousts well met as he sat down on the couch. Glancing around, he spotted the sketchpad that Himiko had dropped earlier, and picked it up from the floor. He raised a brow at her.

She quelled her laughter and sought an excuse. "Sorry. I bumped it when I got up to check my perfume. I was looking at it again while you were downstairs."

"It's all right." Akabane's hands rested on top of the pad, which had fallen open to a page featuring none other than the mysterious swordsman Himiko had glimpsed moments ago. "You really like my work, Himiko-san?"

"Yes." She smiled encouragingly at him. "I meant what I said, Akabane. It really is great detailing, even in the unfinished ones."

"Attention to detail is crucial, yes," he agreed. "I'm still not certain I find your assessment of my skill in this department an accurate one, though."

"Have you shown your drawings to anyone? Besides me or Ban, that is." Himiko looked at him, then at the sketchpad. "I know a professional who could give you a review - "

He gently held up a hand. "I appreciate the offer. Truthfully, it is something I have considered and discussed briefly with Ban-kun, but for the moment, at least, I have not come to a decision about what shall be done with these pictures."

Feeling further guilt over her theft, Himiko did her best to look suitably sympathetic, and nodded. Then Akabane surprised her.

"However...there is one drawing whose fate I have determined..."

He slowly paged through the art book until he found what he wanted towards the back of it. Taking the page between his fingers, he methodically removed it from the perforated sections.

He handed it to her. "It would please me for you to have this, Himiko-san."

This one had been rendered in full color. Himiko stared at it and felt tears welling anew in her eyes, this time for different reasons. "It's magnificent!"

"I only work with the best material," Akabane said proudly.

Himiko looked at her gift again, then at him, and launched herself from the cushions. She ignored his muffled yelp as she trapped him in a hug, mindful of the precious art in her hands. "Thank you! I love it," she said a shade calmer than before as she remembered their respective places and disentangled herself from him to spare them both embarrassment. Clearly Akabane hadn't been expecting such an enthusiastic response, but nonetheless he seemed delighted by it.

"You forgot one important part, though," Himiko said, cradling the drawing in her hands as she gave him a warm smile.

"Oh?"

"Doctor Jackal should be in this too."

His smile deepened. "But he is. Look down in the left-hand corner."

She did, where he'd titled it, "Witch's Brew." There next to the caption was a miniature stick figure in an oversized black hat, brandishing four needle-points. Much like the mystery swordsman's, the figure's face was mostly obscured by his headgear, but a playful smirk remained visible below the signature slit in the hat's brim. Below that, more lettering, in tiny ornate precision: _To Lady Kudou Himiko Poison. Yours truly, Kuroudo Akabane. _

She adored it instantly. "I still think you should have put yourself in this one like you did the others."

He chuckled quietly. "To have done so would have been a gross overstep of ego, don't you think?"

Himiko grinned at him. "Why not? You already sign your victims..."

They both laughed at that, and then Himiko gestured to the sketchpad. "Akabane, I was wondering...that drawing of the man with the sword..."

"Ah." He opened it to the page she'd pointed out. "This one." He turned the book so she could see it again. "Do you know who he is?"

"I was hoping you would tell me."

He nodded, a thoughtful cast falling over his face. "Kanade Semimaru."

Himiko rolled the name in her head, trying to figure out where she'd heard it before. "Ginji said you had met someone in the black forests of Hell Valley, a man from the tribes of the seven Kiryuudo elders. Was that him?"

"Kanade-sama was the head of the Cicada clan. There had been a certain legacy, passed down through his bloodlines. He inherited it. We were old friends who had served in places long since buried by antiquity, but in those days there were few secrets between us."

"Did he die when you two fought then, in the valley?"

"No." Akabane's eyes fell upon the page, clouded by memory. Softly, he said, "He had died ages before that, on the same day I watched his son take his last breath upon this earth."

_And you died too, didn't you?_ Himiko thought, noting the way his voice dulled when speaking of this history. She'd always known Akabane was something of a perfectionist, and now she knew just how personal he'd taken his defeat by the ultimate enemy that stalked every doctor's footfalls. She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"I'm sorry."

He acknowledged her reply with a slight nod, sitting still and not saying anything for a moment while he composed himself once more. "Well. Past is passed." He looked up at her with a benign smile as he closed the sketchbook and laid it on the coffee table. "Did Ban-kun tell you that I was thinking of taking a leave of absence from transporting?"

She was as jarred by his sudden switch of topic as she was his news. "No. What are you thinking?"

Akabane leaned against the back of the couch, folding his long legs off to the side as he assumed a comfortable rest. "Well, I'll have to go on furlough anyway when we go to Europe next spring. I thought that this would coincide nicely with a vacation. Indefinite, of course." He tapped his fingers upon his thigh. "You needn't worry that I'll disappear in the course of a mission. There will be ample notice. I've planned absences before."

"But not ones as long as what you're presumably considering," Himiko guessed.

He shrugged. "To everything there is a season. I find that the occasional respite from duty brings me to a fuller appreciation of it." A pause, and then, "Or inspiration apart from it..."

Before she could question him on that there was a racket of stumbling out in the hallway, and the apartment door burst open. "We have bagged and tagged, baby! Who's the best retrieval service in the world, again?" Ban strode into the room looking rough but not worn; Ginji was in similar condition, and likewise pleased as punch. "That's right. Get Backers, number one in your books!"

"And hearts!" Ginji chimed in, high-fiving Ban before they both made a beeline for the refrigerator – Ginji first clearing this with Akabane, of course. "Akabane-san?"

"Go ahead, Ginji-kun. Mama made some delicious sandwiches for lunch this afternoon. I believe you'll find the leftovers in a green container on the top shelf."

Ban had already located said container and was tearing it open. Mouth oozing a flap of lettuce, he said, "I gotta admit, that's the one bonus to having your mom stay with us, Kuroudo. She's one hell of a cook!"

"And a linguist," Akabane said, in a slightly sharper tone as he and Himiko rose to go and greet the pair, she detouring briefly to stash her gift in the backpack. "I was treated to a rather upsetting display of her newer skills not long ago. Skills that I can only assume must have come from you, since I know that Ginji-kun's nowhere near as profane or foolish."

"She learned from the master," Ban said with equal parts satisfaction and disrespect. He saluted Akane, now returning from putting away the laundry in the bedrooms. "Kudos to you on a job well done, milady!"

"Hmpf. He had it coming," was all the petite woman said. She bypassed Ban and went to Ginji, clucking over his state of disarray. "Where have you been, Gin-ji? Come, come. I fix this for you." Obediently he trotted after her, secure in the knowledge that pampering would shortly be followed by feeding.

While Akane examined Ginji's clothes to determine the amount of repair they would need, Akabane resumed giving his lover the third degree. "What does 'dummkopf' mean?"

"German for 'stupid.' Which you can be." Ban was grinning like a fiend while he wolfed down the last of the leftovers. He saw his lighter nearby and scooped it up, tucking it into a pocket. "Heh – so that's where that thing went."

Akabane looked like he didn't know how to take Ban's affectionately caustic sideswipe. "Charming. Are there any other choice words you care to share with us, or am I being unreasonable in expecting a cessation in further obscenity lessons?"

"Dummkopf's not obscene. Wait'll we get to the Italian swears. Now there's some colorful bits!"

"You will not teach my mother to swear in Italian!" Akabane snapped. "Or any other language, for that matter."

"Too late. We've already mastered the French cusses. Your mom's got a gift for picking up new tongues," Ban said, his grin so sharp it could have split wood. "Must be all that spellcasting work as a necromancer."

Akabane was less than thrilled by the praise. "My mother is a lady, Midou-kun! A _lady!_ There are some things she doesn't need to know in this life or the next."

Ban came around the side of the counter and lightly socked him in the arm. "Come on, Kuroudo. Don't you know a mind is a terrible thing to waste? The dirtier the mind, the greater the loss, as far as I'm concerned. There's an art to swearing creatively and very few people can do it as well as we can. Right, Akane?" he said to Akabane's mother.

"_Tu peux bien te fourrer,"_ she replied smoothly from the living room, where she was dabbing peroxide on some of Ginji's rawer knee-scrapes.

"_Mama!"_ Akabane gasped, eyes flaring at her having just told Ban to perform an explicit but anatomically impossible feat.

"Take a damn chill pill, Jackal," Ban laughed as he pulled a beer from the refrigerator and went to flop on the sofa with it. "It's just words." He tousled Himiko's hair on his way past. "Hey, brat."

"Takes one to know one," she snorted.

Akabane was still intent on impressing his displeasure upon its offender. He followed Ban, and in turn was followed by Himiko who didn't want to miss a second of the gathering storm. "Midou-kun, you will pay attention to me when I am speaking to you of serious matters!"

Akane looked up from tending Ginji. "Hush your noisy mouth, little bastard," she told Akabane in Spanish. "You fuss over useless things."

"_Mama!" _

Perched on the couch, a gawking Ginji giggled in fits. He may not have understood the languages being bandied about, but he was savvy enough in social graces to grasp their vulgar connotations. Next to him, Ban was holding his sides in from laughing so hard. "Hey, Akane, was he always this uptight when you were raising him?"

The matriarch waved a hand as she transferred bandages to Ginji's wounds. _"Aa, aa._ I blame his father's family's influence. Good English bones, but they have some strange rules."

"Mama, really, such vulgarity..!" Akabane hissed.

Akane just shook her head at him. _"Va t'en au diable,_ Karawan."

He threw up his hands and hissed louder. "I don't believe this. Everyone is determined to mock me today for some inexplicable reason. I realize I have my faults, but do I honestly deserve this kind of treatment?"

"I'm not mocking you, Akabane-san," Ginji piped up. His face was tight with the effort necessary to say that without accidentally loosing a laugh that could be taken the wrong way.

"I know you wouldn't, Ginji-kun." Akabane let him have a relieved smile before flashing a glower at his mother and Ban. "But you - " he pointed at Ban - "you will pay dearly for this before the night is through, make no mistake."

"Your mom's the one telling you to go to hell and I'm the one about to be punished?" Ban swilled his beer and snorted. "You always did have screwy priorities, Jackal."

"You taught her to say it, therefore you are the one responsible," Akabane sniffed.

"Relatives are supposed to embarrass you. That's what they're there for," Himiko told him sympathetically.

"I suppose," Akabane groaned, putting a hand to his forehead as if feeling another headache coming on. "But why must they be so bloody good at it?"

When all parties had been suitably cleaned and freshened up from their respective excursions the group headed out for their pizza dinner, Ban further harassing Akabane about who would be picking up tonight's tab and Akabane taking it with his usual good humor – namely, lack thereof. Before the evening was out, he would staple Ban with one kiss and two scalpels, Paul would threaten another of his infamous bannings, and Akane would threaten _him_ with a repeat of the scorpion incident if he didn't repeal said edict and allow "Gin-ji" to dine in freedom.

Himiko also showed them, much to Akabane's modest amusement, the drawing he'd gifted her with. For just one minute, peace reigned throughout the Honky Tonk as everyone, including Paul, Natsumi and Rena, admired the portrait of a mature Himiko leading into the perfumed flames of a battle her two-man army of Ban and Yamato. This Queen was vibrant, passionate, but lacking the malice of her mirror counterpart; she was at once fully human and all-encompassing goddess, made whole merely by living out her will to triumph over challenge, and mercy and wit serving as handmen in her journey. It was truly a worthy dream to aspire to.

No one commented on the absence of the obvious guardsman – save for Ban's cackling over the absurdity of the little stick figure depicted at the bottom - but in her mind's eye, Himiko had already added Akabane as the third guide in her court. For some time now, she had become aware that this invisible triangle – Akabane, Ban and Yamato – had shaped her life in precious ways immeasurable, and for that, she would always be grateful. She could do no less than to honor such special kinsmen.

Eventually the food was devoured and Paul was eager to close up shop, before his patrons touched off a fresh hurricane of fisticuffs as was typically their wont, so retrievers, transporters, and mother moved their party back to the apartment. By recovery standards, the night was a success. No one died. No one lost due payment. Most were kept entertained. And while a few people suffered ignoble defeats (Ban, Akabane) at the wicked hands of fate (Akane), everyone got something they desired, and went to bed relatively happy. The danger of Himiko's cursed doppelganger notwithstanding, the Honky Tonk's most notorious family was complete in its tough but tender bond.

Then Akane got sick.

XXXXX

TBC


	44. Stairway To Heaven part 6

It started, as such things do, with a simple cough. From there it progressed to hacking fits, and further onward to full-blown sickness. At first they thought it was just a cold – the flu season was being unusually virulent this year and nearly everyone had gotten hit with something; Paul Wan had had to temporarily close down the Honky Tonk for two weeks the previous month because he, Natsumi, and Rena were all out sick at the same time – but when Akane's tissues began turning up in the wastebasket dotted with dark bloodstains, the gravity of the situation leveled them.

"No arguments, Mama! You're going to a hospital at once," Akabane ordered as he packed the overnight bag almost as quickly as a grumbling Akane was yanking items out of it. "This is serious!"

"You fuss too much!" Akane half-hacked, half-hissed out as she struggled to rise from the sickbed where she'd been forcibly confined. "Is only same thing I had before many times. It passes on its own, I rest and I will be fine!"

Akabane looked aghast at her. "And you never went to a doctor for this condition? Mama! I'm taking you straight to the emergency room myself!"

"Karawan, I warn you - " Akane shook her small fist, trying to pull the overnight bag away from her stubborn son.

Himiko stepped in between them, allowing Akabane to take the duffel and keep filling it. "Akane, he's right. Listen to you, you can barely talk, much less sit up. At least do it for our peace of mind," she implored.

"Forget it, she's a tough old bag," Ban said, narrowing his eyes in warning at the angry elder. "No buts, Akane! You're going now and if you keep pissing and moaning about it so help me Aesclepius all three of us are gonna transport you there by the skin of your teeth!"

Akane relented only slightly, continuing to growl under her breath about overprotective sons, their churlish mates and said mates' impertinent siblings. But she allowed them to bundle her into Ban's Subaru and drive her to the nearest hospital.

The news wasn't good. Upon being admitted for examination the attending physician took one look at Akane's test results and diagnosed an infection that had been brewing indefinitely. Hearing that nearly sent Akabane into silent ice-racked spasms and Ban into a frothing fit, so it fell to Himiko to gather the particulars of Akane's treatment and relay the information between doctor and patient – when she wasn't being hounded by said patient's other escorts.

"How could she not tell us she was getting worse?" Akabane fumed quietly in the waiting area while Akane was being transferred to a private room for immediate treatment. "Did she honestly think I'd never find the bloody tissues she was trying to conceal in the trash all the time?"

"Well, that explains how come I could never draw any blood from you every time you came home from a rough beating and I'd ask what happened," Ban grunted. "Like pain-in-the-ass mother, like pain-in-the-ass son!"

Akabane's eyes flattened to slits and his lips peeled back to spit a sharp retort. Himiko cut him off before the first knife, verbal or otherwise, could fly. "Save the fight for later! Akane needs us right now and she can't get any rest if you two are tearing this place apart."

To her surprise it was Ban who was first to surrender. "Aw hell, she's right." Some of the tension drained from his taut face and he squeezed Akabane's shoulder. "Didn't mean to bite off your head. I know this isn't easy for you."

Akabane didn't look any happier, but neither did he have that dangerous glint in his eye anymore. He sagged against Ban's side. "Why didn't she say something about how awful she was feeling? Instead she kept swallowing all the medicine I was giving her and I never knew - "

"She didn't want to worry you," Ban soothed, putting his arm around Akabane and bringing him in a little closer. "Moms are like that with their grown kids. You did nothing wrong," he said in a firmer tone when it looked like Akabane would have descended into self-flagellation. "You said yourself to me, patients fight with their doctors all the time. It doesn't surprise me that your mother wouldn't say a thing. I could tell right away when I first met her that you got your strength from her. Her type doesn't crack."

"Oh?" Akabane leaned into his lover, relaxing somewhat. The tightness in his knit brows ebbed a little. "I suppose I am being rather foolish about this, aren't I?"

"Nah." Ban rubbed Akabane's shoulder. "Just upset. That's normal. I'm not too thrilled either with Akane for keeping her illness a secret, if you want to know."

Akabane tucked his head under Ban's chin, favoring him now with a tiny lavender glimmer of affection. "Thank you, Ban-kun," he whispered.

Ban nuzzled his temple. "It'll be okay, Kuroudo-liebe."

But hours later when the doctor returned to update them on Akane's status, it wasn't.

XXXXX

Pneumonia is a silent but effective killer. It lurks quietly, its beginnings usually humble, and its lack of such fanfare ensures that its progress is left unchecked, as many victims don't notice the first onset, or are inclined to dismiss lesser symptoms as minor complaints. By the time the illness does decide to announce its presence with markers that can't be ignored – bloodied phlegm-clotted tissues, for instance - the too-thin barrier between life and death has already been breached.

Akane Akabane was no weak-willed woman. She hung on, clinging to her mortal thread with fangs every bit as tenacious as Ban's Aesclepius, battling the affliction first with antibiotics, then her own stubborn insistence as her body rallied its immune system's full force. But not even force of will was enough to grant miraculous cures, and within a week of her admittance to the hospital she was sent to an intensive care unit for twenty-four-hour monitoring.

Himiko found herself acting as intermediary a lot. At Ban's unspoken plea, she packed a small bag and temporarily moved into the bedroom of his apartment that was so recently vacated by Akane. When she wasn't there, helping Ginji to oversee the necessary chores – the cats needed feeding, the dishes needed doing, and there were always bills – she spent most of her free time at the hospital, handling Akane's treatments and doctor visits, and supporting Ban whenever she could. He had his hands full taking care of Akabane.

To say that one was taking his mother's sickness poorly was too kind of an understatement. The worse that Akane got, the more agitated Kuroudo became, and the more tense Ban got as he did all he could to keep Akabane from snapping over that precipice separating his sanity from seething madness.

Akabane vacillated between periods of trying desperately to avoid any fights at all – the rationale being that if he could behave himself, could show mercy and spare his enemies the sight of the grave, then his mother would be shown that same grace – and brief, bloody moments of vicious combat that left a wide trail of carnage, as his control slipped, emotion got the better of him and he sought to smother his frustration and fear in the one thing he understood best.

When not working, the transporter froze himself solid into a silent stone. He drifted through an area with all the frigidity of a passing winter fog, his resources focused tightly on keeping his own private counsel, and woe to anyone foolish enough to intrude upon his solitude. Akabane's nerves were always on edge these days, his scalpels first to reflect that deadly barometer, and consequently, everyone around him kept a wide berth so as not to risk accidentally setting him off.

The strain of keeping his lover under control was getting to Ban. He came home roughed up more often than not – going several rounds with Jackal was the best way he could think of to help him blow off the ever-rising excess of pressure – and was downing coffee and cigarettes as though the two habits had suddenly been declared on the verge of extinction.

The gasket blew one night when Akabane's father arrived at the hospital the same night Himiko, Ban and Akabane were keeping watch over Akane.

Himiko and Ban didn't know it was him at first, but they didn't need to. There was no mistaking that elegant profile of the man who was in Akane's room when she and Ban entered it. Himiko actually thought it was Akabane himself, until she realized that the man's hair was shorter and smoothed into a small queue at the back of his neck. When he turned to greet them his eyes were black, but the expression he wore was classic Akabane: calm, unfathomable strength.

Ban was his usual welcoming self. "What the hell are you doing here?"

It was Akane who answered, fumbling in annoyance with the oxygen mask while she tried to speak in wheezing gasps. "Is fine, fine, Ban-kun." She pointed at the man who had risen. "My husband. Karawan's father..."

"Hush, Nebt-het." The man gently slipped the mask back onto Akane's face, ignoring her scowl. "Save your strength and rest."

He straightened and rose from his seat to face Ban and Himiko, bowing formally. "My apologies for startling you. I am Dr. Alistair Akabane. You are friends of my wife, I presume?"

"Yeah," Ban said. "Doctor? You in the surgery biz like your baby boy too, huh?"

Akabane senior arched a brow. "Retired. My practice is in dealing antiquities nowadays." His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Ban's rumpled appearance. "How do you come to know my son?"

"Long story. I take it he hasn't told you?"

Alistair frowned. "I have not spoken with my son in quite some time, I'm afraid."

Ban shifted on his feet. He looked wary, but not quite ready to launch into outright confrontation. "Huh. Interesting. But you didn't answer my earlier question. What are you doing here?"

Alistair's eyes moved over him in calculating measures. He was sizing up his opponent too. "That should be obvious. I came at my wife's request." His smooth voice turned chilly. "What I am at a loss to is why I was not contacted sooner. Nebt-het is in very serious condition."

"No shit," Ban said. He moved towards Akane, glaring at her. "You sneak! How'd you get behind our backs like that? You know you're not supposed to have too many visitors..."

Akane smirked at him from beneath the oxygen mask's covering. "Nurses...smart. Know who outranks...doctors..."

"Akane-san," Himiko groaned. "You didn't!"

"Relax," Ban told her. "If she'd cast some hex around here the whole place would've fallen in on itself some time ago." He shook a finger at Akane. "But I better not hear any more of you threatening them with curses, got it? I'll Jagan some sense into you if I have to."

Akane growled something incoherent into her mask, but her baleful eyes lowered. She was in no position to fight back, and everyone knew it.

"Jagan." Alistair had come forward and was watching Ban with the sharpness of a hawk. "Of course. The fabled Evil Eye. So you're the one."

Himiko could almost feel Ban's hackles shoot up at the mention of his power. "What about it?" Ban demanded.

She hoped he wasn't spoiling for a fight. She was as curious as he was to know why Akane had never mentioned Alistair till now, but discretion was called for if they were to mine for information successfully. Himiko started to stand, head off any confrontation between the two men by explaining their purpose to Alistair, but discretion flew right out the window with the sudden entry of his son, and then it was as if someone had just tossed a live grenade into an already tense foxhole.

Kuroudo Akabane was wearing thin. He'd spent literally all of yesterday, last night and today keeping watch over his mother – the latest reports from the doctor had not been good – and was clearly tired. He just barely managed the ghost of a smile in greeting for Ban and Himiko. But that smile withered into razor ice the second he spotted Alistair in the room. A wordless hiss curdled through his teeth.

"It's nice to see you too, Kuroudo," Alistair said, as if the temperature hadn't just suddenly bottomed out into arctic air. "Perhaps you would care to introduce your friends." He nodded at Ban and Himiko.

Akabane's eye twitched, his lips thinning as if to spit out the taste of something foul, and he was silent for a few moments as homicidal impulse warred with habitual courtesy. Finally he said in a brittle tone, "This is Kudou Himiko-san, a lady I work with. And this is Midou Ban." A pause, and then an almost defiant, "He is my companion."

If Akabane had been wearing his hat and coat the threat he posed might have been significant enough to deter a challenge, for Himiko had noticed that the patrons of the Honky Tonk tended to give him a certain deference when he had them on, as though the things were pieces of battle armor that made him that much more formidable. Without them, he seemed somehow vulnerable. But if he had thought to shock his father with his bold declaration of his and Ban's relationship, he was mistaken. Alistair didn't bat an eye.

"I see. In that case it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Alistair gave another little bow to Ban and Himiko, offering a hand to the latter, and when she accepted he turned her palm over and delicately kissed the backs of her knuckles. "Now. Would someone kindly explain to me how my wife came to be in this place?"

Akabane looked like he would have torn into him then, but Ban intervened. "Pneumonia. We brought her here about a week ago, but gods only know how long she's had it. She wouldn't say squat to us when we kept asking her about that cough." He shot a glower at Akane, but her eyes were closed, so he looked back at Alistair. "We've been rotating shifts, keeping watch on her since."

"Mmm." In Akabane-speak, this wordless murmur could have meant anything, but Himiko decided it was merely the family's way of digesting what information one had just received.

Akabane spoke up then, his voice cold and soft. "I have a few questions for you as well, Father."

Alistair's eyes narrowed. "Is that so. Come, then." He inclined his head towards the hall outside. "Let us discuss them and let your mother to her rest. She appears to be well-cared for," he added in a slightly mollified tone as he glanced at Ban and Himiko.

His son said nothing, abruptly spinning on his heels and marching out of the room. Alistair's departure was markedly calmer but no less dramatic a presence, the whispers of his tailored suit brushing past them as he padded outside after Kuroudo.

"It's like watching two stags duke it out," Himiko said to Ban when the two Akabanes had departed.

A wheezing drew their attention. Akane had awakened again and was trying to sit up. Himiko went to her side, gently entreating her to lie still so that she could plump the pillows and make her more comfortable. She had to lean in closer to make out what the woman was trying to say.

"No, no, child. Alistair not like that." Akane stopped to suck in some of the air from the oxygen mask. "Only worried...about Karawan."

"Akane, shut up and rest, for crissakes," Ban grumbled. "You're sick!"

She made a face and swatted a limp hand at him before looking to Himiko again. "Alistair is good father to Karawan. But..." She paused again, groping for the mask to get it out of her way. Her face was a sickly gray, and Himiko wondered if maybe Ban was right, that the elder shouldn't tax herself by attempting to set the record straight. "Many things...happen, things you not know about."

Another pause, another gasp. Himiko held her hand, gently stroking it. Akane went on. "Karawan stubborn. Like his father. Like his mother." One side of her mouth crooked in a mixture of pride and self-deprecatory amusement. "He is upset...won't let Alistair explain. So they both hurt. Have to...have to figure out matters by...themselves."

"Akane," Ban said in warning, seeing how pale her face was.

She ignored him and continued. "Ban-kun says he and Gin-ji...get back lost things. People...too, sometimes." Her voice was fading and Himiko had to strain to hear her now. "Families...should not be...broken. You know this, child. I see it...in your eyes. You...and Karawan...severed from bonds...by people, bad people." Akane stopped and panted in thick, gurgling rasps.

"Akane...please," Himiko said, genuinely frightened now for the elder's well-being. "It's okay, you can tell the story to me later - "

"No!" Akane's eyes were dark, sharp. Her fingers dug into Himiko's palm in little pin-prickles. "Must know. You need it. Karawan...he tell me of your cards. Yes," she hissed when Himiko's eyes went wide. "You have much...to overcome. So listen well. Magic...what we call potions, or lightning, or deception or blade, life...death...these...all good, but none...is most important one. Strongest power...from heart."

She made a weak fist and pressed it to her chest. "In here. In you. In Alistair. In Karawan...and Ban-kun too. In Gin-ji, and...all of you. That much...fate cannot steal. Can not ever know...what comes future, child. But...better to die on feet, than live on knees. The heart knows truth. The heart will find a way back...home."

Her hand fell away from Himiko's. Akane's eyes drooped shut, her weakened gasping echoing in the sudden silence. Himiko quickly replaced the oxygen mask over her mouth and nose, and was gratified to see the tubercular wheezing ebb into a quieter rasp.

"She's getting worse," Himiko said softly, hating herself for even giving voice to her worst suspicions. But to persist in a state of denial would have been intolerable. The doctor earlier had warned them that Akane's condition could devolve at any time. The infection had been left to linger far too long without intervention, and now the tipping point – in either direction – had come due.

Ban patted a seat next to him as he flopped into one of the chairs. "Make yourself comfortable. Nothing we can do but wait it out."

Himiko glanced to the outer chambers of the intensive unit wing, where the other Akabanes were still cloistered. "What's taking Akabane and his father so long?"

"You heard Akane. They have to fight it out on their own."

They watched the two men beyond the room's boundaries. There was very little sound they could pick up on; such heated verbal battle wasn't the family tradition. But there was no doubt that their argument was a vicious duel between equals. Alistair's face was closed, his posture an affronted fixture as his silent stance demanded proper respect due him, while Kuroudo's expression was white with frozen anger as he struck with short, sharp daggers honed with a blunt tongue's surgical expertise.

"Ain't this rich. I have mother issues and he's got father issues," Ban muttered close enough for Himiko to hear.

"And we both have sibling issues, so what else is new?" She took the offered seat beside him.

"I have rules," Ban said, his mouth thinning into a taut line. "Only one basket case per household."

"Ban, being an out-of-work retriever doesn't make you a basket case," she sighed.

He ruffled her hair. "I was talking about my homicidal half. But I appreciate the esteem, brat."

"I take that back," Himiko said, half-shoving him in return. "You _are _a basket case."

"Tsk," he chided her, gesturing at the now-sleeping woman in the hospital bed. "What would Momma Akabane say about your accusations against her favorite son-in-law?"

"She'd say I was right, and then she'd whop you one for sneaking cigarettes into the ICU." Himiko pointed at the – mercifully unlit – stick poking out of Ban's mouth. "How'd you get that past the staff?"

"They don't check _all_ your pockets at security points," he chuckled grimly. "I just hide it whenever one comes by, and when I'm in the clear it's safe to gnaw on - " He broke off when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.

Himiko glanced and saw that the two men who'd been arguing earlier appeared to have concluded, or at least suspended, their discussion, and were now approaching Akane's bedside. Deciding that Ban wasn't about to go anyplace, she got up and moved to the far side of the room, both to give the newcomer a place to sit and to observe the whole scene.

Up close Akabane's father was even more striking than she'd thought. It was easy to see where his son had gotten his tall, lanky build and sleek good looks. But more than that, it was obvious just how much of himself Alistair Akabane had instilled by way of breeding. His mannerisms were practically identical to Akabane's, right down to the way his lips curved in cool detachment and the calm, controlled movements he made when taking up a spot beside his wife. Every action seemed calculated to display the precise effort with minimal waste – so very efficient, artisan, just like his son.

Akabane was standing behind his father, his back a stony pillar of disapproval, though he said nothing for the moment, and watched, like Himiko. Alistair was reaching down to touch Akane's cheek, his fingertips gliding over her skin. His face betrayed little of what he might be feeling.

"They moved her to this unit two days ago." Akabane's voice sliced off the words in cold lumps. "It's been touch and go ever since she was admitted."

Alistair said nothing and continued to pass his hand in slow examination over Akane's face.

"They diagnosed acute pneumonia. Doctor said she'd had scarring in the lungs from previous bouts. Repeat infections - "

" - Which were monitored, never permitted to devolve to an unstable condition." Alistair's voice cut through Akabane's with clean mildness. "It seems the English countryside is not amenable to your mother's respiratory. I wrote some of the charts myself - "

"You let her go." Akabane lanced out the accusation as quickly as he could carve Js. "She was sick and you knew that, yet you had her travel against physician's recommendations."

"Recommendations that she would have ignored anyway. You know your mother is a stubborn person, Kuroudo." Alistair turned and rested a cool metallic gaze on his son. "How am I to deny her when she learns of your whereabouts and demands to come at once to Japan? We heard nothing from you for years, not since your recreation with Semimaru Kanade - "

Purple flashed dark plum and Himiko suppressed a shudder at the violence she felt coiling in the room. Akabane was furious, but so long as there was an audience he might restrain his rage. "I was made to understand that I was no longer welcome in your house." The words were spoken in a near-whisper. "It took me the better part of two years to recover from my 'recreation', as you put it, and in that time I believe you made your feelings quite clear regarding my choices."

Himiko did not miss the echoes of hurt underscoring her partner's icy tone. Akabane seemed torn between family loyalty and a perceived betrayal he was at a loss to explain. Before Ban, Doctor Jackal would never have been able to navigate these stormy emotional waters without drowning. Akabane, though he was clearly troubled, was at least making an attempt to stay afloat.

"Perhaps I spoke too rashly then," Alistair was saying. "I confess, there were things I did not know then that might have made the difference." He turned back to Akane, and there was a distinct softening of the shadows cloaking his eyes. "I do not understand why you would never permit me to inform your mother of these circumstances."

"And I don't understand why you were never content to inform us of your own whereabouts," Akabane returned. "Mama waited for you, and when you never showed - "

"Your grandfather is responsible for that," Alistair said, somewhat cuttingly. "It was his idea to meddle in our affairs. It was fortunate that I found you when I did, lest those despicable vultures have laid waste to you as well. Only my brother saved us from complete fragmentation." He looked to his son. "You still have not answered my question, Kuroudo. Why was I privy to your background, yet your mother never was?"

Akabane trembled a little but held his ground. "That is irrelevant to the situation at hand."

"On the contrary. It appears that too many secrets have gone unearthed, too many machinations lain buried longer than they ought to have been. Perhaps your Babylon City is the cause of this. Oh yes, I know of them," Alistair said when Akabane gave a visible start at the name. "It's hard not to, what with the circles I follow. But still, I have had time to do some research of my own."

"_No!"_ The hiss sliced through the room, lethal not in its volume but its ferocity. "What is between them and me is for us alone to determine! I want no outside interference, do you understand, Father?"

If he was taken aback by his son's harsh response Alistair wasn't showing it. Indeed, he seemed to have expected Akabane's upset reaction. He tilted his head a little, smoothly folded his arms across his chest – so very like an Akabane, always in control, Himiko thought – and started to shape his reply.

Ban abruptly stood up and slapped his hands together. "All right, that's it! Everybody out! Akane needs rest. We can talk about this crap in the lounge. More fighting room," he goaded Akabane as he passed by him.

"I'm not going anywhere," Akabane icily informed him.

"Come now, Kuroudo," Alistair said. "Midou-san is correct. Let your mother to her sleep."

"No," Akabane snarled, pulling out scalpels when his father tried to guide him towards the room's exit. "I will not leave her unguarded. I _promised_ her. I'll cut the throat of anyone who tries to lay hand on me to take me from her side," he spat, when Ban looked like he would have done just that.

"Jackal, be reasonable. You've been up for almost forty-eight hours straight. If Akane's condition was going to change, we'd have known it by now. The staff are on duty, they'll tell us if we need to be here." Ban held out a hand.

Akabane promptly smacked it away. "I'm used to long hours. Go, now, Midou, before I forget myself and remove your presence permanently. I. Am. Not. Leaving. My. Mother. _Again!"_ The last word slipped out on the tail end of his bitten-off sentence, and Akabane's eyes narrowed at his realization of emotions left unchecked. But he refused to back down.

Ban seemed to realize there was nothing to be gained by forcing the issue. He waved a hand in disgust and muttered something under his breath about stubborn jackals while not so subtly nudging Himiko out the door.

XXXXX

TBC


	45. Stairway To Heaven part 7

The Akabane men were nowhere in sight. "Must've taken it outside. Easier to spray the blood around," Ban muttered. "Come on, brat. I could use a smoke break anyway."

Himiko dragged her feet behind him, hoping she could catch sight of the missing Akabanes, but all she saw as they walked through the hospital were the usual visitors, attendants, physicians and patients. When she and Ban got to the outdoor garden she waited for him to light up his cigarette, and then she said, "Do you know what Akane was referring to when she said that Akabane and his father had things to explain to each other? What did Alistair mean by 'you're the one?'"

Ban took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke out in a lazy stream. He was quiet for several minutes, measuring his response before putting voice to it. "It's not entirely Akane's fault that he showed up. I just wasn't expecting it to be at this particular time."

He inhaled the nicotine again, his lips forming smoke rings. "I asked Akabane once about his parents. Long story short, when Kuroudo was still practicing medicine the opportunity to go abroad came up, and he was going to take it. Alistair didn't approve. They had a big row over it that ended with Akabane leaving anyway. After the war..." Ban's eyes traced the flight path of a stray moth near the entry light. "Akabane came back pretty messed up. His father took him in again so he could recover. But you don't really recover from something like that. Alistair didn't realize it, pushed too hard. Akabane freaked. Took off again and landed, presumably, in Babylon City."

Ban paused, taking a few minutes to finish off the rest of his smoke. He tossed the butt on the ground and stepped on it, twisting his foot to extinguish the last of the rosy embers. "The rest is, as they say, history. I don't know what exactly was said between them. Getting this much out of Kuroudo was like pulling blood from a turnip. All he ever told me when we first decided to see each other on a committed basis was that his family was dead."

"To him, it must have felt like that," Himiko said. "Never knowing what had happened to Akane, not speaking to his father after their fight..." She teared up suddenly, remembering a twinge of what it had felt like for her when she'd lost both Yamato and Ban in one terrible day. "What happens to families, Ban? Is it always like this? Split apart by fate...and then left with what seems like an endless gulf between worlds..."

He sighed and reached out a hand, squeezing her shoulder. "It doesn't have to be that way, Himiko. You and I...Akabane...I think we just won the cosmic lottery on fucked-up dynamics, is all."

She managed a small smile, one that he shared.

"I thought about it. Wrote a letter to Alistair inviting him to come see Kuroudo again. Tore it up and threw it in the trash after I did some more thinking. That was well over a year ago." Ban closed his eyes. "I suspect that Ginji was being nosy again and he found the letter after some judicious dumpster-diving for leftovers. But I don't know for sure. Because not long after that, Akabane came to me and said that he wished he could get his father to understand why he'd gone into exile. I think he still has a soft spot for Alistair."

His eyes reopened into somber blue. "He just doesn't understand why there're so many secrets with him and Akane. When those two met, Alistair kept popping in and out of Akane's life like some kind of phantasm. After Akane and Kuroudo were separated, Alistair found him and raised him. But not before Alistair's own father had done some tinkering of his own. He wanted Kuroudo to be his heir and was going to bring him up the way he envisioned. Alistair's family didn't like Akane."

"The necromancy," Himiko guessed.

Ban nodded. "That, and she wasn't in the same financial bracket they were. Kuroudo's other relatives were pissed that Alistair wouldn't dance to the grandfather's tune, so they started pulling some strings of their own. The result is what you're seeing now."

"So that's what Akane meant when she said Akabane and I had both been manipulated by 'bad people,'" Himiko said. "She must have known, then. What had happened to her family."

"Probably," Ban said. "But like I said, she couldn't do anything about it on account of being ill. Then, when she had gotten better, all the trails had vanished. Whoever swiped Kuroudo and sent Alistair packing had done a pretty thorough job. It took Akane years to find Alistair, and that was long before he finally caught up with Kuroudo, via that letter, is my guess."

They stood in silence, watching the night life drift by in the autumn breeze. Himiko said, "The night we did the cards, Akabane told me that he'd almost had a sister, but the stress of having his relatives interfere was too much for Akane to handle. You said that she took sick while she was living in Egypt." She hesitated. "I don't think...that was such a coincidence."

The darkness simmering in Ban's eyes matched her own. "Neither do I. We both know poisons can be applied in different ways to obtain certain outcomes. And Alistair had relatives who were doctors themselves."

"God," Himiko whispered, but it was not a call to a faceless creator, merely a helpless vent of her frustration. "Do you think they meant to kill Akane? Or just put her down long enough for them to do their dirty work?"

"The people that did it are the only ones who know for sure," Ban said. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now. The damage has been done."

He lit up another cigarette and took his time drawing on it, burning it down to a stump that joined its predecessor on the ground. "Time to call it a night. I've gotta check in with Ginji. What do you want to do, stay here on late watch?"

"One of us should," Himiko agreed. "In case Akabane comes back, or Akane...something changes..."

"Okay. I'll be checking my eyelids for leaks in the waiting area once I've briefed Ginji. You come get me if you need to," Ban told her.

It was not a request, but Himiko took it just as seriously as if it were a mission she'd been entrusted with. If their positions had been reversed she would have wanted Ban to do the same, and knew that he would. "I will. Ban, about the other thing - "

He held the door for her as they went back inside the hospital. "Remember Akabane's Egyptian name? 'Karawan' is an ancient expression for protection. Words have power, Himiko, and in a society that old, the magic is timeless. Even back then, people knew about evil eyes, mesmeric trances, and they came up with endless ways to guard against those. Akane must have taught Alistair. If he deals in antiquities he's bound to have come across the legends, and if he knows anything at all about Brain Trust's City like he said he did, he'll have been smart enough to draw his own conclusions."

"You don't think he'll be trouble, then," Himiko said as they got into an elevator.

Ban punched in the number for the floor they wanted. "Oh, he's trouble all right. Just not to me, and not to Akane either."

They parted ways at the elevator's stop, Ban heading off to the waiting area to give Ginji a call and Himiko going back to Akane's private room. When she rounded the corner she could see through the glass partition, and what she saw made her heart flutter a little.

Akabane was back. Alone. He was sitting by Akane's bedside, looking at her with something of a vacant expression on his face. What was the term for it, Himiko wondered? Shell-shock, battle fatigue...they all meant the same. How much stress could a person take, how many times could one be kicked down by life, before that person could no longer bear the weight?

She feared that Akabane was teetering over his own knifed edge.

Himiko kept to one side, slowing her steps as she softly padded closer. As her view increased she could see that Akabane had begun speaking, and with the door cracked open, she could hear a bit of what he was saying. He was talking to his mother in the old tongues, the language murmured in halting sections.

Behind Himiko, a nurse came up and put a hand on her shoulder. "We called him back up here shortly after you left." She caught Himiko's startled look and nodded, gesturing towards Akane as she continued in her whisper. "I'm so sorry. The doctor had another look at her. He says it may not be much longer. I'm so sorry," she repeated.

Himiko quashed the sob that bubbled up in her throat. "Then - "

The nurse shook her head. "The next few hours are critical. If she's still here by morning, she might make it yet..."

Another nurse arrived then to summon the first to another room, leaving Himiko alone with her window on her cohort's grief. She felt so many things at once that it seemed she might suffocate in the storm. She'd come to adore Akane in her own way, just as she sensed that Ban, too, held a certain fondness for her despite some of her stricter edicts. The vindictive unfairness of fate raked her heart into a painful vise.

And Akabane. Dear gods, what he must be going through. She didn't know whether to feel shamed or morbidly fascinated by the view she had been granted. Perhaps both. Part of her wanted to turn away, give Akabane and his mother their rightful privacy. The other half of her wanted to stay, both for Akane's sake as silent support and because she couldn't take her eyes off of Akabane, this exposing of a humanity deeply buried.

As if bidden by a will other than hers, her feet slowly moved. She crept closer to the cracked door. Akabane had stopped speaking now and was back to a fathomless stare. Himiko tried to see more of his face, his eyes, wanting to know what it was she saw that had looked so human for once, and not the controlled mask that would have hid the truth. In doing so, her toe bumped the bottom of the door, and she seized herself before her reflexes had her jumping back.

She must have made some noise anyway, because when Akabane next spoke, his words were for her, a curiously dispassionate murmur. "You may come in, Himiko-san."

She gave a start at the sound of him addressing her. Cursing softly to herself, Himiko stuffed her discomfort away and eased into the room. No point prolonging the inevitable. Hoping she hid the hammering in her heart better than she feared, she came to stand before her reckoner, not daring to offer up any paltry excuse for her eavesdropping. Such was unworthy of Lady Poison.

"I'm not displeased with you, Himiko-san," Akabane said, the emotion stripped from his tired voice, only a slight curiosity tinting his tone. "I only know of one perfume-user, and I have worked beside her long enough to be able to tell when her scent is nearby. So I cannot say that I am wholly surprised. I do not understand why you find such interest, but I think...that it is somehow fitting, that you should hold vigil this night."

She found her own voice, forced herself to look him in the eye. "All that matters is what you think, Akabane. I can go or stay. Whichever you choose. I'll honor that."

His gaze was dull with the numbness that hard-learned experience of futility brought. She'd never seen such defeat in those beautiful purple eyes before. It was somehow wrong. Even at his worst, when he'd been trailing a river of bloody death in his wake, he'd been more alive, sharp, his instincts keen as he lived each moment in full awareness. Now he was worn down, used up, walking a waking death without any acknowledgment of it.

"It would matter to Mama. She liked you."

"I know it would mean a great deal to Akane. And to me. I liked – I like – her too." Himiko wet her lips, trying to find the words she needed. "I asked what _you_ want." She fixed her trembling knees in place so they wouldn't betray her. "You're important to me too."

There was a long silence, then his eyes closed, his face shuttered as his head dipped a little. "Don't leave. Stay. Please," came the barest of whispers.

Himiko nodded. She sank into the seat beside him, not daring to say anything more, knowing that she'd just been offered a precious gift: his trust. That meant more to her than she could ever explain. Only one other person could understand that, and she wasn't about to go and wake up Ban from his nap unless it became necessary.

So she sat, quiet, being nothing more than the tangible presence from whom a sense of companionship, a kind of strength, could be drawn, and before long her faithfulness was rewarded. Akabane began to speak.

"When I was nine years old a strange man and woman came to my door. They said I had to leave. I told them my mother was sick. They said she was dying. When I refused to go with them they tore me by my hair and beat me with sticks until I was bloodied. They put a sheet over my mother's body and bound me with them."

He drew a soft breath. "That was my first real taste of death."

Himiko waited. The knot that had already formed in the pit of her stomach twisted again, harder, but she made herself sit still and ignore it.

"These strangers were telling me that they were my blood now. But all I could think of as I sat in the airplane and watched the sands disappear beneath me was how upset my mother was going to be when she woke up and I wasn't there. I promised her. I was her son, she'd said, her faithful keep, her watcher in the night."

Akabane's voice began to shake. "I promised her and I let her down, and she suffered for it."

Himiko's eyes filled with tears at a child's fierce devotion, an unending heartbreak. She tried to picture a young Kuroudo, fighting with all his might to resist being taken away from his beloved parent, surrendering only when he became overpowered by the stronger adults, to grow up forever haunted by his failure to protect the one person most important in his life, and gripped by an obsession to overcome all weakness. Nothing she could say or do would ever make up for that tragic twist of fate.

"At least if she dies now, she will not go alone, as I feared when Father first told me she was lost to us long ago." His own tears were starting to trickle down his face now, his memory lost in the dust of a tormented past. "I will fulfill my covenant to her, one way or another. I owe her that much, for the life she gave me."

He took Akane's small, spindly hand in his and cupped it carefully, as though it were a precious jewel. His fingers, long, slender but flush with the prime of health, caressed his mother's frail ones in reverence. Soft, lilting Egyptian spilled from his lips as he kissed the hand that had once borne his cradle.

Himiko didn't know what it was that he was speaking, but some things, she understood, needed no explanation.

Akabane fell silent once more and closed his eyes, pressing his mother's hand against his face. He sat like this for several minutes. Then without warning, he bent over in his seat with Akane's hand clasped tightly to his chest and uttered a sound unlike anything she'd ever heard from him before.

It started as a low, guttural croak. Then it ratcheted into a shrill keening, peaking in a ragged cry that scratched and tore at his shaking shoulders, until it staggered down into a shuddering rasp. No other noise so perfectly voiced the shattering of a heart.

Himiko let go of the dam to the river that poured down her own face. She no longer cared that she might disturb the beast within. She couldn't stand by and watch this suffering devour someone she had come to care for. She got up and left her seat and wrapped her arms around Akabane and wouldn't let him go.

He fought her, of course, a last desperate attempt to withhold some shred of dignity in his tattered and beaten trail, for Doctor Jackal would never bend to such ignominy. But she had come to understand a few things in meeting his mother, and learn others during her time shared with him, and Himiko knew, without needing any guide but the one in her heart, that Lady Poison could provide a trusted shelter as well as an able weapon.

She thought of the beetle warrior Genshu Miyama's parting words, upon his death on a battlefield not so long passed. He had been friend to her for only a short while, but he was as great a friend as any.

_Your compassion will make you strong, Himiko-dono. Your kindness is what gives you your greatest power. That is why you are the future hope for all those who believe in you. For in the depths of sorrow lies a well of true strength, one that becomes a mirror to reveal not only the enemy's power, but also what you must do._

Some things could only be clearly seen through sadness, Himiko thought in the darkness of the hospital tomb.

Akabane gave up struggling and sagged against her with a quavering sigh. She held fast to him, rocking the both of them gently, whispering wordless calm to coax him back from the cliff of mad despair. His head slumped against her chest and she eased him close to her heart, where he could be lulled by the steady rhythm of blood's lifespring.

It worked. Akabane went limp in her arms, the desire to battle a formless enemy that could never be banished completely, drained from him and replaced with numbed surrender.

He cleaved to her and she to him, surrounding him in a light mist of perfume she discreetly freed from its tethers. Puppet perfume could also be used in tandem with the lavender scent to restore inner peace. Himiko stroked Akabane's hair and encouraged him to breathe in the soothing aromas. Eventually he stopped trembling and lay pliant against her, his only sounds murmurs of sighed breath as she sat back down with him.

They sat together like that for a while. Finally Akabane withdrew from her and hunched over his mother's bedside once more. Without the armor of his coat and hat, the deep shadows beneath his reddened eyes large enough to drown in, he looked little better than a risen corpse himself, aged well past limits to a brittle shell of his former glory. He looked like a man broken beyond all repair.

Amidst this debris, Himiko knew it was only too true. Restored, he would never fully be, but those precious few who understood him best might yet salvage a chance for him to regain some of what he once knew. "Akabane?" she ventured. "You're exhausted. Please...get some sleep? You can't protect your mother if you go down too."

"I have to stay. If I leave she will meet the true death," he choked out, speaking no longer as an adult but that same frightened, helpless child he'd once been years ago. Only a child's reasoning could help him hold on to what was left of his poise.

"You don't have to go." Himiko carefully brought him in closer, resting his head on her shoulder. "There's an extra bed right here. Just lie down on it, for a little bit. Just a short while," she encouraged, stroking his hair as she curled a few locks of it behind his ear. "I'll keep watch over Akane for you."

He slowly lifted his head and looked at her, sniffling, a flickering disbelief muting his eyes. "You...would do this...for me?"

"Yes." Himiko took his hand and squeezed it. "That's what friends do. They lend their strength when one of them needs it to fight on."

"Why?"

She met his eyes. "Because I'm your friend. Because I want to share your pain."

Tears swamped Akabane anew and threatened to cloud over his entire face, but he blinked them back. He sniffled again, louder, and said, "Ban-kun is the only other person to ever say that to me." He looked at her, in equal parts, bewildered, touched, relieved. "Truly, yours is a gracious power, my Lady."

"Someone has to watch for the Watcher too sometimes. I'll be the one in your stead, if you'll let me."

She had to help him stand. So weakened was Akabane by his deprivation and turmoil that he shook in his movements like a reed battered by the wind; he was barely able to stumble over to the second bed and collapse upon it without her support. Himiko dragged the blankets up over him as he curled into a shivering fetal position, no longer able to hold back the tremors overtaking him.

"I'm right here. I'll keep guard for both of you." She carried over one of the chairs to sit next to him.

"You must wake me...if...if anything happens."

"I will." Himiko spoke carefully, knowing how her words might arouse a terrible wrath in him, unafraid now of that possibility. "For what it's worth...your mother is one of the strongest-willed people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. If I could give up all the good fortune granted to me by the cards in exchange for her life, I'd do it without regret."

To her surprise Akabane reacted not with the anger she'd expected, but a small, sad smile. "Why is it I can trust you when you say that, but no one else?"

"I don't know."

"I do." Akabane's eyes were grave. "Mama knows. You are heir apparent, Himiko-san. Only another of her power would tell true."

She thought back to Akane's words, of the prophecies made, fortunes spun. "We'll see. It's impossible to feel powerful when the people you care about are hurting, and you can't do anything for them."

"That's why I gave up on healing. I discovered the only truth I can live is that of death." Akabane closed his eyes, fast failing now that sleep had sunk its honeyed fangs into him. "Do you know what I sometimes dream of, Himiko-san?"

She rested her hand on his head, fingers gently combing his hair. He seemed to find that comforting, so she stayed where she was. "What?"

"I dream...that I will find a lady worthy...a true warrioress to do battle against, one who has the strength of ages to endure against me. We shall meet in the crossroads...raise our blades to the west wind. It will be a glorious fight...one to end all others."

"Who wins?" Himiko asked, thinking that it was the novelty in opponents that he found attractive, for he had always been the consummate gentleman towards the opposite sex and she knew of no female who could match him in skill and power.

"I don't know." Akabane's eyelids fluttered in one last struggle before remaining shut. His answer was carried to her on the murmur of a yawn. "I always wake up before it ends."

She continued to stroke his hair. "Maybe someday you will get your wish," she said in an effort to send him to sleep with a pleasant dissolution.

He did smile at her then, a drowsy acknowledgment of her support and his appreciation of it. Himiko managed a smile back, though she knew he was too far gone to see it.

On the wall, a hushed clock ticked its path onward through the hours of the night. Himiko took no notice of it until movement nearby made her turn and look, and she was surprised to see that more time had passed than she thought. Ban had returned.

He padded into the room, holding a finger to his lips to indicate that they should keep the talking to a minimum so the room's occupants could rest. He paused by Akabane's bed, shaking his head.

"Damn crazy Jackal," he muttered, but Himiko saw the way he stroked Akabane's face briefly before coming to take up spot near her and Akane. If the shadows under his eyes were any indication, he had his share of restlessness too.

"Out like a light," Himiko confirmed softly. "His head hadn't even hit the pillow before he was falling asleep."

"Doctors work hard hours but he takes it to the extreme if you don't throttle his leash back." Ban shook his head again and then turned his sights on Akabane's likewise unconscious parent. "Akane knows," he said in a low voice.

She looked at him, waiting for an explanation. He didn't disappoint.

"She knows – about his being a transporter. The killing. What he does...all of it. Told me that she smelled the shadows rolling off of him like a thundercloud. She deals with death, she should know about that sort of thing. I didn't so much as breathe a word."

Akane, in her bed, shifted slightly, turning her head towards her son. The beds were close enough together that she could have seen his face if she had been awake. Acting on instinct, Himiko got up and gently extended her hand through the gaps in the bed's bars, placing Akane's open palm over Akabane's cheek. Deep in slumber, he didn't stir, but to Himiko and Ban, it looked as though some of the terrible pain that had eaten away at him seemed to dissolve at his mother's touch, in the gradual easing of his knit brows and slackening lips.

"Akabane's been hurt too," she said as she came around again to her chair. "We're all scarred...aren't we, Ban? You knew. You knew why Akabane was so upset when Akane got sick. He told you."

After a moment, Ban nodded. "Akane said to me, 'You know why my Karawan fights so violently, son of Aesclepius. He fights, that he will never hurt again.'"

"And you've been there yourself. That's why you're the only one strong enough to see Akabane through the fire."

"Not just me." Ban tucked her into his embrace, his chin poking into the top of her head. "All of us, we grow stronger together. We survive – thrive – because of our bonds. I learned that from a lightning lord a long time ago." He smiled ruefully at her. "Love you, kiddo. Whatever you want to think of me, don't you ever forget that one thing."

"Never," Himiko promised. "You, either."

"Couldn't forget it if I tried."

They held each other close, brother and sister, guardians for the keepers who could not stand on their own, companions in the solemn silence of honored vigil.

Night continued to mark its passage in unobtrusive reminders. The hums and beeps of monitors. The minor outside activities of other people attending to various business throughout the hospital. The shifting and fading of starlight through the window. These were the things that made them aware of their fragile existence, but only the shared links of heritage and commitment were what gave everyone, asleep or not, their certainty of being alive, and the strength to carry on in defiance of death's theft.

Sometime shortly after the first rays of sun crept throughout the room, a rustling of air roused Ban and Himiko.

Akane Akabane was awake, and drowsily requesting a cup of water for her parched throat.

Ban and Himiko could have poured that and thousands others like it from all the tears shed in mourning of the past night, never mind the ones escaping with joy at day's dawn. Instead, Himiko fetched a paper cup of cold water from the drinking fountain out in the hallway, and Ban helped Akane to rise up and drink it.

XXXXX

TBC


	46. Stairway To Heaven part 8

Greetings, all! Sorry it's taken me so long to update my fics – real life has been crazy for me anymore. But I'm still writing! :)

XXXXX

"Your improvement is amazing. Simply astonishing," the doctor in charge of his patient's care told her and her gathered brethren, some time after Akane had gotten well enough to handle limited visitation. "But, of course, we're not out of the woods yet. We'll need to keep you just a bit longer to make sure we've got the last of that nasty infection. All right?"

"Is not all right." Akane scowled at him. She was still weak, confined to bed and tethered to numerous pieces of medical equipment, but that didn't mean she wasn't still a force to be reckoned with – several dents from stray hurled objects in the wall opposite her testified to the growing power of her ire. "I tire of this place, being stuck in this uncomfortable bed all the time." She made a fist as if preparing to hurl some dreadful arcane attack at the visibly uneasy physician, who took a step backwards as he attempted to put a healthy distance between them. He'd heard how uncooperative this patient could be from the few nurses still brave enough to take on this wing of the hospital.

"Cool your jets, Akane," Ban said. "You'll be out of here soon enough. We have to wait till Kuroudo gets better so we can all go home a happy homicidal family, huh?"

At the mention of her son Akane relaxed. She looked over at the second bed in her room, next to hers, and frowned thoughtfully. "Yes," she sighed. "My Karawan, he such foolish boy sometimes. Worries _himself_ sick!"

Since his breakdown Akabane hadn't stirred from his place at his mother's side, so deeply had exhaustion bored through him that he never once woke, even while a flurry of activity had engulfed his mother's recovery. During a cursory examination Akane's doctor had actually discovered him to be dehydrated, and – with cautious supervision under Ban's watchful eye to forestall any adverse reactions on the patient's part – had installed a temporary intravenous drip line to replenish vital nutrients. Akabane lay fast asleep, mostly concealed beneath bedsheets and lost to the world at large while his body renewed its strength.

"Now, dearest. Don't be too hard on him when he wakes. You must admit, he's been through a bit of a rough spell lately," Alistair Akabane gently told his wife.

"Ain't that the understatement of the year," Ban cracked under his breath to Himiko.

"How soon can Akane go home?" she asked the doctor.

"That depends on her progress. At her current stage, she'll definitely need to stay another two weeks," the physician answered. "The infection has receded at a remarkable rate, but just as a precaution, we want her under close observation to make certain there's no relapse. It could be a month or better before we can safely discharge her."

"A month!" A positively murderous flush suffused Akane's face as she struggled to sit up. Ban made her lie back down and patted her hand while Himiko and Alistair quickly moved to escort the frightened doctor out of harm's way.

"Don't worry, Mom," Ban chuckled. "I'll get Ginji to come visit and keep you company. Hospitals are practically his second home!"

XX

Home was slowly returning to what passed for normal in their world, but to all of them it felt good regardless of the changes and upheavals. Himiko was able to move back to her place so Ban could get his ready for Akabane and Akane. The former was soon released from the hospital after passing a clean inspection, and when he learned of his mother's impending release was almost immediately restored to his usual good cheer, enough that Ban could get away with most any of his bad habits and not fear the scalpels' wrath.

Akabane was even feeling benevolent enough to dismiss his lover's penchant for dropping stray cigarette ash, smiling at Himiko and tossing off a casual "It's only ash, Himiko-san, that's what vaccuums are for," when she pointed out Ban's less than spotless housekeeping in his absence.

Himiko found this reassuring. Such was not typical for Akabane, he being fastidious about keeping a tidy den. But it was atypical in a good way, for it meant that the Jackal now kept something even more precious than order close to his heart, something not born of madness and mayhem but rather from a purer strength developed.

She wondered if Alistair's appearance hadn't also had something to do with it. Not long after Akabane had returned home she'd shown up for a visit, having brought over some food at Ban's request. While they sat down to dinner she caught Akabane sitting at the table with a thoughtful admiration gleaming in his eyes as he'd stroked his hands, and she knew he was once again harboring critical news. What was more, she sensed that whatever it was, Ban knew it too, and this raised her interest. Thus began the delicate dance of prodding it out of the both of them.

"Going to give it up, or do I have to use hypnosis perfume on you guys?"

"Like that'd work," Ban scoffed. But he scooted back from the table all just the same, prepared to make a run for it if Himiko should lift a steaming bottle.

"Now, Midou-kun. I see no harm in indulging Himiko-san, especially when she has been so kind as to bring us this thoughtful offering that we are enjoying." A slanted eye indicated the plate of half-eaten food. Akabane looked quietly pleased that she had asked. He tapped his fingers on the table. "One hundred and ten."

"What?"

"One hundred and ten," Akabane repeated, and then flicked his index and middle fingers upward. A glowing spire of blue shot up from between them, and he passed it to Himiko, handle first. "Do you know what this is, Himiko-san?"

She took the scalpel and held it carefully, mindful of the blade's wicked nature. "Aside from the obvious?"

"It was my father's first surgical knife."

She examined it as the blue glow surrounding it faded to a gentle shine. Now she could see the stylized markings inscribed along its length. It was an older knife, different from the rest of Akabane's usual scalpels, longer and somewhat thinner, with a smaller blade. But it was very beautiful, and like the rest of his armory, just as deadly. She could feel the subtle weight of its will as the power vibrated ever so slightly when she held it cupped in her hands. This was the knife of everlasting dynasties.

She looked up to Akabane, passing it back to him. He took it and held it with a kind of reverence as he looked at it.

"Father discovered a clue in his studies, you see. Ten is the key. Eight is for infinity. Put them together and you have one hundred and eight. With those, the possibilities are endless." Akabane's eyes softened in memory. "It was his gift to me. An apology, perhaps, for the lost time between us."

Himiko frowned, but played along with the riddle. "You've talked to him again? That's great. What did he say?"

"It's not necessarily all good," Ban put in. "Kind of complicates matters for us. But it's not serious. We'll deal with it." A glance between him and Akabane, and Ban continued, "Nine is for the Ennead of the cosmos and the sealing of the covenant we share. This one," he said, nodding to the knife that Akabane still held in ungloved hands, "brings it to ten and the crossing of the guard. And X marks the spot."

She blinked at him, at Akabane. The latter smiled suddenly as he replaced his scalpel.

"You needn't trouble yourself on our account, Himiko-san. It's merely semantics. Trivial things, in the grand scheme of plans."

Not so trivial, she wanted to argue, considering their brush with fate yet again and the chilling portents the future hinted at. But she had a feeling that this was one of those times when pressing a case would yield only frustration, so she held back a sigh and let it drop for now. "How did it go with Alistair?"

"He hasn't been run out of town on a bloody hurricane yet, if that's what you mean," Ban said. "He's staying downtown till this mess with Akane improves. After that, who knows. He'll probably go back to England and take Akane with him, is my guess."

Akabane glanced at him. "Actually...I think that he and Mama have been talking. They might decide to move in the not too distant future."

"To be closer to us, you mean," Ban said.

"Maybe." Purple lit in Akabane's eyes. "It would be nice, don't you think, having family near? And it would be so much better for Mama's health."

"What about Daddy Deathest?" Ban raised a brow. "Am I gonna have to worry about filial feuds when you two cross swords over holiday turkey dinners?"

"Oh, Midou-kun." Akabane sighed, but it was a sound of affectionate tolerance. "It wouldn't be like that. Not any more."

His eyes shifted to Himiko. "That night...at the hospital. He gave me a letter he'd written some time ago. I hadn't read it right away. I was still angry with him. I think I stuffed it into a coat pocket and forgot about it until the other day when I put my coat on to go grocery-shopping with Ginji-kun. I was going to throw it out, but Ginji-kun wanted to know what it said. That scalpel was with it when we opened the envelope." A pause, and then a soft, curious, "Father said that he was proud of me."

"Why?"

Akabane contemplated, lacing his fingers together in a pyramid as he studied the table surface. "He said that he wished he had had the strength to fight harder for what he wanted when it was most important. He understands, now. And I think, maybe...so do I. That's enough for me." He looked up, a rare placidity underscoring his gaze.

"I'm glad for you," Himiko told him with a smile.

A true pleasure blossomed in his face. "Thank you."

Ban looked pleased as well. "We're heading over to see Akane after dinner. Want to come with?"

"You know I wouldn't pass that up."

The hospital visit found several grouchy and cowed nurses huddling by the front desk, discussing who would be the unlucky victim chosen to tend to the ward's most feared patient. Akabane, Ban and Himiko were received with a horde of accolades when they offered to be the ones to take said patient's food tray into her room, Akabane insisting on it after judicious questioning revealed the cause of the nurses' unhappiness.

"Maybe I should Jagan your mother," Ban said while they walked to the room where Akane had been transferred most recently. "Convince her that settling down and behaving herself for the staff beats an air embolism with a hypodermic in the intravenous line. The way she's threatening to curse everybody with demonic plagues for keeping her, they're probably going to draw straws over who gets to stuff the pillow over her face one night!"

"She'd never believe you even if it was a very good dream," Akabane said. "Remember, Mama knows everything. I'll speak to her. It's just the illness talking. She's not normally this combative."

"As if she's a ray of sunshine the rest of the time," Ban grumbled.

"You just say that because she'll chop off your hands for messing with her cooking," Himiko said. When that got her a puckered glare from Ban, she winked at Akabane, who chuckled knowingly.

Akane was resting when they entered the room. She awoke easily and ordered them to come in, even as Akabane was quietly protesting that she needed her sleep, though she grudgingly agreed to a short visit so that decent hours could be observed. She hugged Himiko, scolded Ban and fussed over Akabane who in turn fussed over her, occasionally making little growls of indignation when Akane refused to do anything he recommended in a medical official's capacity.

But for all the squabbling, it was clear that there was one constant in the room, and that was what ultimately held control. Akane gradually calmed and hugged both Ban and Akabane. She let Ban give her advice on proper scare techniques and didn't argue as strenuously when Akabane demanded that she obey her doctor's instructions at least half of the time. And they both promised Akane that they would surrender the kitchen to her dominion whenever she visited.

Akane finally let them have the last word, albeit with a final stand, when Ban declared it was time for them to go. She inched upwards in her bed, Akabane drifting to the edge of her side on cue. "Karawan. Really, you must go so soon? Stay and see them wake people up to give them medicine when they say you need rest!"

Smiling, Akabane bent and kissed her cheek. "Mama, I'm going home with Ban-kun now. Get well soon so that you can come to dinner, all right? We'll make your favorite, chicken and dumpling stew."

She smiled back at him, the pleasure rich in her approval of these plans. "Aa."

Akabane got up and wagged a finger at her before donning his hat. "Be nice to the staff, now. I've heard complaints. I don't want to return here and find that you've left them all slaughtered in a pool of blood."

"Yeah, that's Jackal's job," Ban put in.

Akane huffed quietly. She pointed at Himiko and said with a commanding smile, "We take tea together when I come back. Yes?"

"Of course." Himiko gave her another hug. "See you later, Akane."

On their way out they met Alistair. He was carrying a bouquet of fresh flowers. "Hey. You come over too when Akane gets out, Akabane-san," Ban said, ignoring the curious looks his address garnered. It was the first time anyone who'd known him well had ever heard him pay respect to someone else without there being money involved.

Alistair smiled faintly as he acknowledged the unorthodox invitation. "That is up to Kuroudo."

Akabane seemed pleasantly surprised by this. Hesitantly, he cleared his throat. "I would like it if you were to come to our home, Father."

Alistair bowed. "Then I shall be pleased to attend." He nodded to them, the only notice of his true feelings evident in the gentle curl of his lips and the half-lidded satisfaction of his warm gaze, and continued on his way into Akane's room.

Akabane glanced after him before turning an inquisitive gaze to Ban. "Midou-kun?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you never call me 'Akabane-san'?"

"'Cause you're an asshole."

Akabane blinked at him. Ban grinned and waggled his eyebrows, and the two of them started to laugh. Himiko joined in, too.

"Oh, Midou-kun. Please don't ever change."

"Wouldn't dream of it, my _liebe._"

Himiko's grin matched theirs. Alone, one person might not accomplish much. But together, just maybe, those joined in shared purpose and love could build a stairway to reach the heaven only glimpsed in their dreams.

XX

Homecoming was met with about the same amount of chaos as when Akane made her first grand entrance into the Honky Tonk society, but this time the difference was markedly happier. Paul Wan had long since resigned himself to be the resident caretaker of all his unruly regulars and their kin, and so readily lent his kitchen to Ban so he could practice making dumpling stew the way that Akabane had said Akane liked. Natsumi and Rena volunteered to decorate in honor of Akane, and while they were giggling over the insane amounts of glitter that could be dumped onto glue-laden posters, Shido Fuyuki wondered aloud whether Akane would object if he brought his crows inside to be on bug cleanup detail.

Ban promptly earned Akabane's undying adoration when he threatened to pound Shido's face into the cake batter if he didn't shut his mutated monkey-mouth about his prospective mother-in-law. To which Shido came back with a retort about Akane's soon-to-be "snake-in-law," and Kazuki consoled Paul with an offer of cleanup help as the interior of the cafe descended into rubble same as before during similar countless times of strife.

Discharging Akane proved to be a simple and surprisingly painless task. Papers were signed, prescriptions were handed over, and staff breathed a collective sigh of relief as the tiny terror swatted her concerned son's gloved hands away from the wheelchair he was presenting her with, preferring to march out of the godforsaken prison on her own terms. No one argued; they all figured it was worth it just to keep the peace and keep out any unwelcome insect guests.

Back home was a slightly different story. Akane was still weakened from her bout with dance partner death and had begun to breathe a bit harder, so Akabane made her change into pajamas and take up space on the couch. They'd compromised on the perimeters of her confinement, Akabane agreeing to let her continue to stay up so long as she didn't exert herself. Ginji, much to his conflicted feelings, found himself being recruited by Ban to help watch over Akane while he and Himiko made a pantry run.

Akabane and Akane were delighted to no end. Ginji squeaked and hiccupped in rapid succession, but bravely stepped up to his duty as an honorable retrieval agent, well versed in the art of getting back true importance. Duty never forsook sweet rolls, after all, even in the face of scalpels or curses.

"Coming with?" Ban asked Akabane at one point. "I've got money again, no thanks to Hevn, so better take advantage of it while you can. You might see something shiny in the store, want to ratchet up your collection to a hundred and eleven..."

The devilish smile was forbearing as Akabane nuzzled him. "I'll take advantage, all right. Later." He kissed Ban's face. "I had best stay with Mama, though. She's already plotting how she's going to rearrange our linen closet and I don't want her exhausting herself working over our home."

"Not linen closet!" Akane called out from the living room where she'd overheard them. "Bathroom closet!"

"The Evil Eye offer still stands," Ban said to Akabane, nudging him with an elbow.

Akabane hedged. "I might have to rethink that..."

Akane called to them again, in a still firm but more forgiving tone. "Karawan, come here."

He went and knelt in front of the sofa where his mother was holding court alongside Ginji and Himiko who had joined her. Akabane waited, expecting another comfort requirement that he would have happily provided, but when Akane took his face in her hands and stroked his hair, he raised his questioning eyes to hers.

Akane spoke in the low, loving benediction of a mother. "You do well, my son. I know how you kept watch for me through the long night, the beginning of our separation by the vultures of the past. When, some day, the time come that your heart be weighed upon the scales before the great fields of judgment, I will be there to witness. I will testify that my Karawan was the bravest, strongest of my heart and he stood me true. Never you disappoint me. Never. Always you are my faithful little jackal, my pride, my beloved child, then as you are now. Let this old account rest once and for all, Karawan. Go and be alive with your Ban-kun. I know he gives you great enjoyment. That happiness is what I wish most for all your days to come."

A profound emotion he dared not lend voice to glittered suspiciously in his eyes, but Akabane blinked it back. "Thank you, Mama..."

"Go," Akane repeated, smiling down at him. "I have Gin-ji to watch for me now. I am in good hands."

That, Akabane could find no fault with. His smile broadened and he hugged her gently. "Yes. Yes, you are, Mama."

Ginji bobbed his head, patting Akane's hand. "Don't worry, Akabane-san. I'll take good care of Akane-sama!"

Akabane smiled at him. "I know, Ginji-kun." A beat. "Because you know what will happen to you if you don't."

Ginji's smile curdled. "I'll get the scarlet letter?"

"No." Akabane had gotten up and was putting on his coat and hat now. He tugged the brim into place and smiled sweetly. "I was thinking a nice arsenic-laced bowl of ice cream instead."

Himiko followed them to the front door. She caught the silent frown Ban was sending Akabane, and put in a matching look herself. Akabane shrugged.

"Well, I have to come up with something suitably intimidating now that the dear boy knows he can call my bluffed knives, don't I?"

XX

The sun was generous and the winds were fair. They were taking a side trip, having chosen to indulge a moment's carefree spirit before taking their grocery plunder back to the apartment. She spotted him standing on a small hill, one hand in his coat pocket, the other – weaponless – by his side. The breeze was catching lightly on his coattails and hair, batting them like a kitten with strings. He didn't appear to have seen her, so she went to greet him.

"Are you having fun, Akabane?" Himiko asked, when a nearly-imperceptible tilt of his hat brim let her know that he was aware of her approach.

Akabane didn't answer right away. He looked away from her, and she followed the length of his gaze. Ban was over in the next field, whooping it up as he broadcast his victory over the latest game of tag.

Himiko started to make a comment but the look on Akabane's face stayed her words. He was not so much aware of her now as he was focused in a moment of intimacy, watching his beloved in this rare, unguarded moment. His eyes had softened to a warm lilac shade, his smile slight but genuine. When Ban looked up and caught his eye, that smile blossomed with acknowledgment of their unique bond.

"Hey, Jackal! Come play!"

Ban was off again, launching into some kind of weird celebratory dance that was as amusing as it was captivating. Himiko looked at Akabane, who was still standing in place watching.

"Akabane?"

He blinked, seeming to reorient himself with the present, then smiled though he did not look at her; his eyes were only for Ban. "Yes," Akabane said, and started to walk, slowly, but increasingly faster, towards the retriever.

At the bottom of the hill his stride quickened to a jog, slowing only when he came within arm's reach of Ban. Ban stood grinning, hands in pockets while he waited expectantly, and then he moved out suddenly like a whip and captured Akabane in his arms, knocking off his hat. Akabane didn't seem to mind, and the black curtain that so often shielded his face from view fell forgotten to the grass. Transporter and retriever swung each other about, and then the play-fight was on, each showing off his strength, each boldly unafraid in their affection for one another with this, a bond that was powerful enough to transcend even blood and death.

Himiko smiled as she watched them, her partner and her brother, and thought of the dire predictions brought by the turn of the tarot cards and the invisible spin of fate's hand. Whatever the future would bring, this, she decided, must be destiny at its best.

XX


	47. Going For The Gold part 1

Title: Going For The Gold

Author: Amethyst Hunter

Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #7 – "superstar"

Rating: R (language)

Warnings/Spoilers: None other than standard canon.

Notes: New year, new Kisses fic. :) Enjoy! Many thanks to you, wonderful readers, for your continued appreciation. :)  
Disclaimer: Santa didn't put 'em in my stocking this year, so I guess I don't own GB. Aww.

Summary: Ban and Akabane struggle to amass funding for their trip to Europe, efforts that receive an unexpected boost when old enemies cross paths with retrievers and transporters alike.

XXXXX

"It's so…_big,_" Akabane whispered with something close to reverence as he stared at the object of his utter fascination. "Is it really as powerful as you say, Midou-kun?"

"You better believe it," Ban snorted as he searched his pockets for a cigarette. "Sonofabitch almost took off Ginji's head, if that tells you anything."

"Ohhh," Akabane breathed, eyes sparking with excitement. "I simply _must_ try it, then!"

"Forget it," Ban warned. "Even if he is a washed-up trainwreck of a wrestler, he didn't get the name 'Undead' for nothing."

They watched the undead in question, one Hishiki Ryuudo, lumber across the street outside the bar. Akabane refused to be deterred. "Surely he can't be that terrible," he said with a skeptical slant of his brows.

Ban nudged him in the ribs. "That's what you said about Natsumi's ping-pong game right before she handed you your ass on a silver platter."

Akabane frowned. "You're hardly one to talk," he pointed out tartly. "Anyway, just because it's never been done before doesn't mean that it can't be," he continued in a more chipper tone. "Please, Midou-kun? I've been good…"

"Four Js in two weeks is not what I consider good."

"I was bored," Akabane whined. "Besides, that client in Hokkaido had it coming. He said some very unkind things about Himiko-san."

"Oh?"

Akabane nodded. "Things that I shan't repeat," he said primly. "They were most crude."

Ban shrugged. "I'm surprised she didn't take him out herself. She lives for that kind of brawl."

"Oh, ordinarily she would have, and I would have remained on the sidelines to allow her to deal with it as she saw fit, but when he pulled a weapon on the both of us, well..." Akabane's smile flirted with coy satisfaction. "One must look after one's transport partners, after all."

"Uh-huh. And what did you say to him to get him to throw the first punch?"

Akabane's eyes widened. "I didn't say anything. Truly, I didn't," he said when Ban's eyebrow arched. "Though I suppose what Maguruma did wasn't of any help to the situation. But the client insulted him too."

Ban frowned now. "No-Brakes spoke up? He doesn't strike me as the excitable type."

"He is when someone messes with his truck." Akabane was quite serious. "Gouzou's wrath where his wheels are concerned is not something to trifle with, I assure you."

"So what did he say to rile your former client?" Ban asked, puzzled as to what could have set off the bloodbath.

Akabane pursed his lips and thought for a minute. "Hmm. I believe it was something along the lines of '_Chienne, chienne, chienne, ferme donc ta yeule ma maudite saccoche de merde! Si tu penses, pour un moment, que je vais te lecher la derriere, tu peux bien t'asseoir et faire la rotation! Va t'en fourrer une vache!'"_ he finished, extending a middle finger skyward as he mimicked his cohort's rage-inducing response.

Ban gaped. "I didn't know No-Brakes could speak French! Goddamn, no wonder the guy was pissed!"

Akabane chuckled. "Well, Gouzou has a cousin living in the south of Nice'. Evidently they're quite fond of transporters up there, I'm told." He nuzzled Ban's cheek. "Just something to keep in mind for our vacation." He started to walk away, in the direction of the bar that the wrestler-turned-protector had entered.

"Where are you going?"

Akabane paused, tilting his head in innocence. "Nowhere important. I'm thirsty, I just thought I would get a drink - "

Ban scowled. "Akabane. You are not going to go fight Undead Hishiki. We talked about this kind of thing, remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Akabane said, coming back to him and gently trailing a white-gloved fingertip down the front of Ban's chin. "But, Ban-kun, it's been ages since I've had a thrilling challenge." He put another finger against Ban's lips before his lover could speak. "And you said that as long as I didn't kill them, I could have all the battles I want."

"Since when?"

"Midou-kun. It is _not _nice to renege on a deal," a glowering Akabane said. "Remember what happened to those officials who asked us to recover the IL."

"Yeah? Don't be issuing threats your ass can't cash," Ban warned. "Trust me on this, Kuroudo. Hishiki ain't worth the yen it takes to piss in a can. Why do you think Ginji and I go to so much trouble to avoid him? Shit, we'd rather face you on a job, and you know how freaked Ginji gets when he finds out he has to go one-on-one with Jackal!" He grabbed Akabane's wrist and towed him away from the street. "Come on, I'll give you a nice sparring session when we get home."

Akabane dug in his heels, pouting. "I want to fight the Undead."

"And I want Paul to comp us free pizzas for life," Ban said, pulling harder on Akabane's coat sleeve. "It's not happening."

"Ban-kuuuun..."

"Well, well, well. Check it out, Ginji, you know what they say. A snake bastard and his guard dog are soon parted," Shido Fuyuki said as the two former Volts members exited the nearby gift shop and spotted the tug-of-war.

"Hey, Ban-chan, Akabane-san. What's up?"

"Oh joy, I was wondering why the city zoo's been so quiet lately," Ban drawled. "What brings you slumming away from your lap of luxury, playboy?"

Shido reddened. "At least I earn my keep," he snapped. "And I make sure to surprise Madoka with little gifts every now and then to show her how much I appreciate her generosity in letting me board at her house!"

"Bet that's not all the 'appreciation' you show," Ban leered. Shido would have punched him then but for Ginji's suddenly darting in between them.

"Hey, Akabane-san. How come you look so down?"

"Ban-kun won't let me have any fun," Akabane sulked.

"We saw Undead Hishiki going into that bar across the street there a few minutes ago," Ban said to Ginji just before giving Akabane a sour look. _"Some_body wanted to open a can of whoop-ass they aren't prepared to cook up!"

Ginji took Akabane by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Listen to Ban-chan, Akabane-san! You do NOT want Hishiki!"

"Yes I do," Akabane said. "Ban-kun keeps telling me that it's dangerous. But I don't mind."

"Pop the crayon box and color me fucking shocked fuchsia there," Ban muttered.

Ginji shook his head. "Trust us, Akabane-san. Fighting Undead Hishiki is a bad, bad idea! He's scary!"

Akabane arched a fine brow. "More scary than me, Ginji-kun?"

Ginji spluttered. Behind him, Shido mumbled, "Damned if you do, damned if you don't."

"Look, we can stand here and argue this till we're all blue in the face. The answer's still gonna be the same: N-to-the-hell-O!" Ban stated.

"What's the matter, worried that your pet Jackal isn't up to the challenge?" Shido taunted Ban. "It's pretty bad when you have to have your proxy do the fighting for you because you're too _scared."_

Ban went six shades of red. "You son of a – you think we can't handle it?" he snarled, jabbing a thumb at himself and Akabane. "I'm _sparing_ Hishiki a world of misery because we all know I'd take that lummox's head off like the lid from a tin can, and I don't care enough about him to bother with all the paperwork and police. And we know damn well what Jackal here would do to the bastard. As much as I'd love to permanently remove that canker sore of a protector from my life, there's a right way and a wrong way to go about it. I'd sooner sic Jackal on your ass, you gold-digging ape!"

"Uh, Ban-chan - "

Shido scowled. "Oh yeah? I bet you anything that Doc here couldn't take out Hishiki without killing him. But since you've got him on a short leash, I guess we'll never know, will we?"

Akabane was displeased. "Excuse me. Midou-kun does not keep me tethered to a leash! I am perfectly free to do as I please."

"Sure you are," Shido said. "That's why you're letting Snake Boy tell you what to do all the time."

"Shido!" Ginji hissed.

"Midou-kun does _not _tell me what to do," Akabane growled. "We have an arrangement. I merely honor the terms that we discussed and agreed upon."

"Must be fun, sailing down denial river - "

"Big talk coming from a simian savant who hardly lifts a finger himself," Ban shot back. "'Ooh, look at me, I magically snap my fingers to summon rodents - '"

"I whistle, moron, big difference!"

"Whistle, snap, same thing. I don't have to make a bunch of hairballs fight for me! At least I have the courtesy to ask Akabane before sending him to stand in for me!"

"Like that's any stretch," Shido retorted. "He practically begs you to let him off his choke chain so he can go maul people!"

"I do _not _beg!"

"So I didn't just see you and the snake bastard arguing over who gets to pound the Undead back into the ground?"

"Guys! Guys!" Ginji burrowed between Ban and Shido, pushing them away from each other before they could get within a nose's breadth of attacking with fists instead of words. "It doesn't matter who said or did what! The point is, nobody wants a fight - " his eyes shifted towards Akabane, whose expression was distinctly unsmiling - "because we're all just taking care of business and finishing the day dead is no fun at all! Am I right? I'm right!"

"Speak for yourself, Ginji-kun," Akabane said in a tone better suited to a petulant five-year-old. _"I_ am bored!"

"Sucks to be you," Shido told him. "Well, Ginji's right. I got things to do. Too bad we don't get to see if the legend of Midou lives up to its hype." He shrugged and started to walk away.

"That's it." Ban cracked his knuckles and went after him. "You flap your tongue so much you need a retread every month! You want action? I'll give you action. Ten thousand says Jackal can beat down Hishiki and leave him still breathing!"

"Ten thousand? Dream small, don't we?" Shido smirked. "I'd eat his hat and my words for twenty if he can do it!"

"Oh, you got a deal," Ban sneered, before snatching his rival's hand and pumping it quickly to seal the bargain. He wiped his palm on the leg of his jeans. "It'll be worth thirty just to see you mop the shock off your face when it comes time to pay up!"

"And I'd pay forty just to watch you pick your big mouth up off the ground when he fails!" Shido returned.

"What's going on here?" a scorching female voice demanded from behind Ginji.

"I think Ban-chan just made a really, really big mistake," Ginji told Himiko and Kazuki.

"Monkey face started it," Ban said. "He should know better by now than to mess with a man and his Jackal!"

Himiko sighed. "Ban, what did you do now?"

"I get to have a fight!" Akabane answered for him.

"What? In public, broad daylight?" Kazuki looked at the two men. "I thought we were working on the no-homicide thing."

"For forty sweet ones I'll gladly make an exception," Ban cackled. "Anyway, the bet is to subdue by non-lethal means. Jackal can do it! Can't you, Jackal?"

"Not to worry," Akabane declared. "I am a professional."

"Professional what," Shido muttered. He yelped suddenly when a stray scalpel clipped the bottom edge of his ear.

"I heard that," Akabane said.

Ginji buried his face in his hands and moaned. "This is not going to end well, is it?"

Ban slapped his hands together and rubbed them as the group began walking towards the bar harboring the obstacle to his financial fantasies. "Hope your wallet's feeling flexible today, Tarzan. You just wrote yourself a prescription for pain, and the doctor is in the house!"

"He means me, of course," Akabane cheerfully informed them.

"Is he always like this?" Kazuki whispered to Himiko, pointing a finger at Ban.

"Show Ban the money and he's all over it like the stink from one of Fuyuki's skunks," she grumbled.

"Hey, skunks don't stink! They only attack when they're threatened and can't retreat!"

"Spare us the nature lecture," Ban said when they entered the bar. He turned to Akabane. "Okay. The important thing to remember about Hishiki is that he has an easy weak spot. All you gotta do is kick him in the - "

"No cheating, Midou!" Shido snarled. "Just because Madoka did it doesn't mean Jackal's allowed to!"

"It's not sportsmanlike either," Ginji said, wincing in remembrance of the simple but effective way that Madoka Otowa had once neutralized the protector.

"That's all right. I much prefer a spirited engagement," Akabane said. "And as Ginji-kun mentioned, it is rather a base method of disposal."

Ban shot them all dirty looks. "Heaven forbid we sully the honor of the Undead." He turned back to Akabane. "You know what they say, Kuroudo. All's fair in love and war. Nail this guy, whatever it takes, just as long as he's not pushing J-daisies by the time it's done. Got it?"

"Absolutely."

"Now, he's a former wrestler, so he'll probably try out a few piledriver moves on you. Just remember how we did things in our sessions and you should be fine."

"All right. Anything else?"

Ban shrugged. "Kick his ass?"

Akabane grinned and pressed a kiss to his lover's lips. "For you, my darling, anything."

The bar was filling up with patrons getting off of work. Among them was a large brute hunched over the main counter. Akabane being Akabane wasted no time in cutting straight to the point. He walked right up to Hishiki and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me. I would like to challenge you to a duel."

The mumblings and chatter amidst the barflies fell to a few murmurs, and then, silence, when they all realized that the largest of their bunch was being spoken to. All eyes swept back and forth between Hishiki and his mysterious challenger.

The protector himself was last to respond, not because he was preoccupied or slow-witted, but because he couldn't believe that anybody would have the audacity to approach him. At least, not in this way, for even the few underworld select that had interest in his specialty preferred to keep him at a comfortable distance when hiring him. He slowly turned around on his stool, finished the gulp of liquid he'd taken that nearly drained his mug, and looked the black-clad figure up and down with something resembling the disdain that one might have for a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of one's shoe.

Hishiki spoke, a roll of thunder across battered plains. "What did you say?"

Akabane was as calm as ever. "I am interested in engaging in fisticuffs with you. I do hope that you are available."

The whole bar had dropped silent now. Everyone had picked up on the uneasy mood festering, and they wanted to be well away from the splatters when it exploded. Preferably with a good view of the damage so that they could share either participation in it, or stories of it.

Hishiki kept staring at Akabane, who was waiting for an answer. When he didn't get it the transporter had a sudden epiphany.

"Oh! Do forgive me. I haven't properly introduced myself, have I?" Akabane took off his hat and made a bow. "I am Kuroudo Akabane, also known as Doctor Jackal."

At the mention of that name several chairs and stools scraped the floor as men tripped or stumbled in their fast exiting from the bar. Akabane ignored them, rising and putting his hat back where it belonged. "I was informed by my companion that you specialize in fighting, and as I also share the same study I would be ever so delighted if you would indulge my request. A substantial bet is riding on the outcome, you see."

Hishiki reached for his sunglasses, perched on the top of his head. He slowly folded them and tucked them into the breast pocket of his ill-fitting suit. Without them, he looked twice as mean, his eyes hard, beady squints that drilled into his opponent. "A bet, huh? Who'd be dumb enough to do that?"

Akabane didn't flinch. "My companion's mortal enemy. He bet him forty thousand that I couldn't defeat you without killing you." He paused, then added, "It is all quite serious, I assure you, since I rarely let my opponents live. But I should like to prove to Midou-kun and Fuyuki-san that I am very capable of restraining my homicidal impulses when the situation calls for it."

Hishiki's face, which hadn't changed any from the sour cat-butt face it was scrunched into, now twitched and hardened. "Midou. That Ban Midou? The retriever punk?"

"The very same," Akabane said, a smile brightening his face. "He is my beloved."

Hishiki stared at him some more. Then he burst into loud, grating laughter. The crowd around him nervously joined in. So did Akabane.

"Oh shit," Ban groaned from a side corner where he and the others watched. "Jackal, babe, they're not laughing _with_ you...!"

Himiko patted his arm. "Don't worry, Akabane's just stringing them along before he deals the downer."

"But is it going to leave Meat Mountain still breathing?"

"Fifty thousand says no way," Shido sneered behind Ban.

"Shut up, monkey-spank! Sixty thou will have Hishiki alive and out in five minutes!"

"Do either of them even have access to that kind of money?" Kazuki asked Himiko, who just rolled her eyes and huffed.

Next to Ban, Ginji buried his face in his hands. "This is not going to end well, is it."

At the counter, the raucous laughter finally died down. Hishiki bared his teeth in a snarl of a smile. "Tell you what. I'll give you your little playtime, how about that?"

Akabane clasped his gloved hands together. "Oh, wonderful! I'm so glad you accept. I haven't had a rousing battle in ages, so please don't disappoint me."

The bear-grin widened as Hishiki slid off his stool and stood, towering easily over Akabane, who had to look way up at him. "Oh, you won't be disappointed, transporter. But before we get down to business - " Hishiki clapped a log of an arm around Akabane's shoulders as he made to lead him away from the bar - "I'm hungry. How about we have a pre-fight snack first?"

Akabane looked confused. "A pre-fight snack? Do you mean like an energy bar, or juice drink?"

"Yeah. Yeah, one of those," Hishiki cackled. "Ever try a Hertz donut? It's my favorite..."

"Oh, shiiiiiit," Ban muttered.

"And I thought only Emishi could be that lame," Shido said to Kazuki.

Akabane smiled at Hishiki. "I've never had one of those before. I'd love to try one, if you don't mind."

"Not in the least. They're right over there..." Hishiki moved the hand that was on Akabane's shoulder in the opposite direction, and when the transporter looked away as per the natural inclination to follow movement, Hishiki's other fist planted its boulder-blow squarely in the center of Jackal's gut.

"Hoo-hoo-hoooo," Shido chuckled while Himiko winced in sympathy. "That had to hurt!"

Above the fallen Akabane, Hishiki and his followers roared into laughter once more. "Hurts, don't it?" the protector grinned.

They dismissed the gasping prey bent over double shuddering on his knees and turned back to their brews. But if they thought that the Jackal was easily disposed of they were soon disappointed. Akabane coughed and struggled to his feet, still wobbling slightly from the unexpected blow.

"Actually...yes...that did hurt...quite a bit," he grunted.

Hishiki heard him and the crowd's attention shifted back again when they realized the confrontation had only just begun. The protector's eyes narrowed as he saw Akabane get up and come towards him. "Well, well, well. Aren't you a glutton for punishment?" Hishiki sneered. "Maybe this time I'll hit you so hard that Midou dies puking on his own glasses!"

His fan club howled their approval. Akabane smiled, but there was no friendliness in it now. He coughed some more and got out a raspy reply.

"You know...I would have had the courtesy to make a formal declaration of war on you before I attacked. So consider this foul play."

He moved, just like that, while Hishiki and company started to laugh again. The laughter was promptly cut off when eyes blinked and Akabane reappeared right behind Hishiki, scalpels in hand. He jabbed all four tips soundly into the protector's buttocks and Hishiki shot across the room, bellowing his bull rage.

Ban snapped his fingers. "Now that's the Jackal I know and love!"

Hishiki had none of that for his challenger. He stopped grasping his hindquarters and curled his shank fists upright, snarls rumbling in his chest as he charged. Akabane was waiting for him, sans hat but with his own fists ready. He darted towards the Undead and just as Hishiki would have mowed him over ducked away and underneath the larger man's arm, one gloved hand snaking out to deliver a hard chop to a pressure point on the ribs.

It was a slick tactic and would have worked on a less attentive opponent. Hishiki, however, was no stranger to all the dirty double-crosses a fight could bring, and he reacted to Akabane's feint quicker than anyone anticipated. A hand the size of a small tombstone shot out and grabbed the back of a black coat; before Akabane could defend himself Hishiki had yanked him backwards, flipped him about and lifted him above his head.

"Who let Donkey Kong out of his damn videogame?" Ban groaned, while the audience roared their approval of Hishiki's hurling Akabane like a bowling ball across the top of the bar counter.

Shido was duly impressed. "No wonder nobody wanted to face him in the wrestling ring!"

"I was talking about you, monkey trainer!"

"Shut up!"

Himiko got on top of one of the few chairs that hadn't been dragged off by patrons eager to give the combatants more open battle space. "Kick his ass, Akabane!"

"Yeah, you go, Akabane-san!" a now-tare'd Ginji said, a few shades quieter than Himiko.

"So you guys are a cheerleader couple now?" Kazuki said.

Both Himiko and Ginji turned on him like a pair of rabid weasels. "Shut up!"

Akabane gave no sign of having heard the cries in his favor. The pummeling only served to make him all the more determined to claim victory, and he pulled himself out of the wall he'd crashed into. He rolled off of the bar counter, bedraggled and bloodied but on both feet, mouth thinned and eyes narrowed in deadly concentration while his hands spiked with knives.

"Attaboy, Jackal! Sic 'em!" Ban growled under his breath.

Hishiki and his group had stopped laughing long enough to watch the transporter right himself again. "Don't know when to stay down, do you, toothpick?" the Undead grinned. "That's okay, I could do with some extra kindling to snap in half!"

"You'll be the one to go to pieces, if you don't fight properly," Akabane retorted, flicking a scalpel at Hishiki's feet. "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to fool with sharp things?"

In answer Hishiki stomped toward him, knocking away all the knives hurtling at him as though he were swatting flies. Akabane let him get close and then he reached up and clamped a white glove around the front of Hishiki's throat. But instead of collapsing unconscious from the pressure depriving him of oxygen, as a weaker man would have, the Undead was merely irritated. He grunted, increasingly louder, nostrils flaring like a bull's, and seized Jackal's wrist in sausage-sized fingers with an audible crunch, removing the hand attempting to choke him while everyone, Akabane included, stared disbelievingly.

"Uh-oh," Ginji moaned.

Uh-oh didn't begin to cover it. The crowd hollered for Hishiki, who bared teeth in rabid glee, and seized Jackal's throat in a reversal of fortune. The Undead lifted his prize aloft while Akabane hissed and spat, clawing ineffectively at the chokehold.

"Time to take out the trash!" Hishiki announced, to the bar crowd's raucous approval.

"Too bad Kazuma Kurobe the disposal agent isn't here," Shido said. "I bet this monster could've pounded him into the ground like a tent peg. I'd pay big bucks to see that!"

"Save your money, toadface," Ban said. "You're gonna need it when Jackal bounces back!"

"Looks to me like the only bouncing he's doing is his head serving for Undead Hishiki's personal basketball," Shido sneered, while they watched the protector pitch Akabane into a pair of tables. "Face it, Midou, you and Doc are getting slam-dunked on this bet!"

"Wait!" Himiko said. "Akabane's still moving...!"

Just barely. The transporter gingerly picked himself up out of the wreckage and hobbled forward. His lips were twisted in a grimace. He looked a sight, hair mussed, clothes ripped and torn, face bloodied – a good deal like a typical drunken bar patron, in fact, given the unsteady flicker of his eyes as he took a few moments to reorient himself.

He staggered over to Ban's group amidst the jeers from Hishiki's. Emboldened by the thought of beating his archrival at his own game, or perhaps he figured that the transporter was too preoccupied with his current dilemma to retaliate, Shido made a jab of his own. "What's the matter, Doc, thinking you've bitten off more than you could chew this time?"

He poked Ban when Akabane didn't reply, only shook himself to throw off the last of the dizziness. "Pay up, Midou. It's in the bag."

"It's not over till the protector hits the ground!" Ban snapped.

Akabane spoke up then. "I believe I will be able to shortly remedy this situation, if you will permit me to borrow Ginji-kun for just one minute."

"No way. The deal was for you to clobber him yourself, and you couldn't close it," Shido said. "No asking others to cover your butt for you!"

"Ginji-kun won't need to fight. All I need is his assistance, that and nothing more," Akabane answered coolly, eyes flashing purple annoyance at the Beastmaster's insinuation of weakness. "I'm certain he'd be amenable to offering aid in order to protect such a spotless retrieval reputation. Wouldn't you, Ginji-kun?" Akabane said as he directed a sweet but pointed smile at the blond Get Backer.

A blubbering Ginji promptly shot behind Ban. "...eehh...Ban-chaaaan..!"

"Just make sure you bring him back in one piece. _Alive,_" Ban stressed as he pushed the blob of tare over. "To hell with Hishiki and bets – take this zombie out once and for all!"

Akabane paused. "What's the magic word?"

Ban pointed at the mass of jeering protector. "NOW!"

Akabane's lips pursed. "That will do, I suppose." A sniveling Ginji in tow, he marched back into the center of the fray.

"This is absolutely not going to end well," Kazuki said.

"Oh, no," Himiko agreed.

"Watch and learn, kids," Ban ordered, backing slowly towards the nearest table. He had faith in Ginji's endurance, and he trusted Akabane to stay within reasonable limits, but the coiling of his gut told him it would be a good idea to keep a sturdy shelter handy.

In the center of the semi-dismantled barroom the dysfunctional duo squared off against the massive behemoth that had inspired all the chaos. Akabane assessed the situation with a critical eye, his gaze immediately landing on the most important part at present.

"Ginji-kun?"

"Wh-Wh-What is it, Akabane-san?"

"Be a dear and bring me back my hat, please? I'd like for it not to become any more damaged in this fight."

Ginji blanched. The object of retrieval lay upturned on the floor not more than ten feet away from Hishiki. "Do I have to?" he squeaked.

Akabane smiled tolerantly. "Well, if you value your hide..."

Ginji hiccupped fear and tottered slowly in the direction of the hat, mumbling all the while about his fatal mistake in getting up out of bed this morning.

The loudest of the ridicule had died down and Hishiki was turning back to his unfinished drink, having decided that there was time enough for refreshment before it became necessary to stomp his prey again. But the movement of blond in the corner of his eye reminded him of old grudges, and he whirled on Ginji with those furies churning anew.

"_You!"_ the protector spat with rumbling bloodlust. "I'll squash you next, you pathetic little lightning bug!"

Ginji dodged the sledgehammer of a fist that landed where he'd been standing a second ago. "I'm not here to fight you! I just want Akabane-san's hat!"

He made a grab for the prize, but the wrestler was closer to it. Hishiki squeezed the brim of the thing, crumpling it in his grasp. "This what you want, punk? Come and get it – if you dare!" Raw laughter split the air.

Ginji could not have gone any whiter than a sheet dipped in bleach. He looked from Hishiki to Akabane, back to Hishiki, then back to Akabane again. The message on his face may as well have been scrawled there by a scalpel: _I'm doomed._

Akabane didn't seem particularly put out by Ginji's reluctance to risk squishing by fetching his possession. He flicked his cool gaze to Hishiki as he calmly strode forward now. "It's all right, Ginji-kun. Why don't you have a seat over there while I straighten out this misunderstanding?" he said, motioning to a corner over by a wall socket.

While Ginji wasted no time in taking advantage of the suggestion Hishiki stared at the transporter, impatience with the interruption warring with disbelief that an enemy he'd repeatedly battered about was still functional to challenge him once more. "Don't you know when to give up?"

"Not usually," Akabane replied with casual indifference. Then, to Ginji, he said, "Ginji-kun. Would you like to know the difference between a light bulb and the Undead's mother?"

Both Hishiki and Ginji gave him their undivided attention, one with confused brown terror, the other with bulging black rage.

Akabane smiled, all pure white fang, as he delivered the answer with relish. "You can unscrew a light bulb."

Silence hung in the air like a ripe stink while the punchline burrowed into everyone's mind. Ban was first to burst out laughing, even as he was ducking for cover, knowing what would come next. "Guess you _can_ teach an old Jackal new tricks!" he cackled while Hishiki roared, patrons screamed, Akabane called forth Bloody Rain, and the bar devolved into a hailstorm of scalpels, fists and splintered wood and broken glass.

"He gets it from you, doesn't he?" Himiko demanded as she dove beneath the same table just as a stray knife cleaved the chair she'd been standing on in two.

"Damn right! I didn't think anybody else knew that tidbit about Hishiki's mom!"

Hishiki was raining blows at his enemy almost as fast as Akabane was sprouting scalpels. Neither was giving nor gaining ground, until Akabane drew the battle closer to a petrified Ginji. With nowhere to run, the retriever sat scrunched up on the bar stool, trying to make himself as small a tare as possible. But if he hoped that his presence would go unnoticed he was very much mistaken. Akabane had other plans.

"Ginji-kun, remember the favor I just asked you for? Now would be a good time to fulfill it," he prompted, with a flash of knife in the furious protector's direction.

Hishiki still clenched the hat in his fist. Tears and snot streaming down his face, Ginji resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably never get to eat roast beef again and crawled forward just as Hishiki lumbered closer. Akabane trailed behind, reaching out to take hold of Ginji's hand just as the former managed to lift a shaky hand and close his fingers over the other side of the hat's brim.

Before Hishiki could mete out his vengeance Akabane said to Ginji, "Do please forgive me this one brief indiscretion."

Ginji started to ask what he meant by that, but only got out a muffled whine when Akabane pulled the retriever to him and planted his lips soundly on the other's. At the same time he was turning around, sticking an extended scalpel directly into the wall socket opposite him. Electricity arced in blue fire as bolts plowed through the bar, showering the scattering, screaming people in a torrent of sparks and cascading debris as the building burst like an overfilled balloon.

When the smoke had lifted enough for those few left inside the remainder of the structure who were brave enough to struggle out of hiding, there remained only three people standing for them to see, two of them sizzled to tattered crispness. The third was still rolling eyes back in his head as he flopped on the floor in a puddle of tare, the ends of his blond hair spiking with leftover current.

The largest brute had gotten the worst of the frying. Undead Hishiki's hair – what there was of it that wasn't burnt to cinders – smoldered in tendrils as the abating fire nibbling at the pieces of his suit wavered in tiny licks of orange. He belched a thick cloud of smoke from his soot-covered face and toppled head first onto the floor, down - and out. But, as his slightly quivering chest proved – still among the living.

"I win!" Akabane announced, putting the somewhat melted heel of his boot on top of the fallen mountain.

He looked dressed in gray rather than black, the rags of his clothes being covered in ash, and the static trapped in his hair gave him a decidedly porcupine appearance that dwarfed Ban's sea-urchin style. Given the pointed smugness with which he regarded his victory, however, no one was about to comment on it.

Ban dusted off his pants and turned with an evil smile to an open-mouthed Shido, jabbing him in the side. "FYI, chimp-chump, I accept cash, credit cards, checks and Paypal. Let me know when you plan to make your withdrawal from the First Bank of Madoka so I can have the extra pleasure of watching her ream you out on your gambling debt, m'kay?"

He went over to Ginji and lightly booted him. "Get up, eel. We're eating beef tonight thanks to the simian savant. And Jackal too, of course," he quickly added, upon seeing the infamous eyebrow arch nearby.

Akabane smiled now, placated by the proper credit. "Did I do good, Ban-kun?" he purred.

Ban couldn't help but grin back. "Yeah. You did real good." He sniffed at the acrid stench clogging the air. "Now let's go get you cleaned up so we can celebrate properly, my ingenious little Jackal-lantern!"

Akabane bent down and plucked his hat – still mashed in Hishiki's fist, still – incredibly! – unbaked from the electrical attack. He settled it on top of his soot-soaked head, ignoring the crackle of staticky hair as he compelled it to obey the hat's confines while he basked in the praise. "Ginji-kun and I do make a rather splendid team when we work together, don't we?"

"...beef," Ginji mumbled, still staring goggle-eyed at what had once been a whole ceiling.

Himiko and Kazuki, wiping away the soot and debris they were flaked in, just shook their heads, each of them reaching over to take hold of Ginji's ankles and drag him out of the bar behind the triumphant Ban and Akabane, as one thoroughly roasted Undead and one very unhappy Beastmaster were left in a haze of dust.

XX

TBC


	48. Going For The Gold part 2

Unsurprisingly the money Ban won from Shido didn't last long. The parking meter maids were out in full force this season and they doled out their punishments with about as much mercy as an Undead's punches. This was bad enough, but when sickness came knocking on the door of a certain retriever-transporter couple, more money was lost to purchases of medicine and supplies, as Ban tried to forge on in spite of the cold's stubbornness. They needed money, he had jobs – and his pride. Stupid little germs weren't going to get him down.

But his cantankerous companion might. It didn't take Akabane long to figure out what was wrong with his unusually secretive lover, and when he did he was not pleased. He stood imperiously in the doorway, blocking Ban's path. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Out."

"Oh no, you're not. Your temperature is three degrees above normal. That's a fever, Midou-kun."

Ban rolled his eyes and coughed. "Thank you, Doctor Obvious."

Akabane shook his head. "You're not going anywhere in your condition. Get back into bed where you belong."

Ban pondered whether he had the strength to just plow right through him. "I have a job, Jackal."

"It can wait. If the client has any sense of decency whatsoever, they'll understand. Now, to rest with you." Akabane motioned for him to return to the bedroom.

Ban refused to budge. "It's money, Jackal!"

Akabane favored him with a fond but stern smile. "It's always money with you. When will you learn that money doesn't bring happiness?"

Ban snorted, and then wished he hadn't because it started up the snot factory again. "It does to me," he muttered as he wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve. "I've been keeping score on the ledger. We'll come up short on our Europe funds if I don't go," he pointed out. "Trust me, I've slogged through worse conditions than this before you came along."

"Well, that's why you have me now," Akabane said smugly. "Someone has to look after your health, since you refuse to do it yourself."

"I don't need a babysitter," Ban snapped, on the tail end of a sneeze that morphed into a cough.

"No," Akabane agreed. "What you need is medicine, a hot cup of chicken noodle soup, and most importantly – " he blocked Ban again when the other would have made a beeline for the door – "plenty of rest."

Ban's patience was at its limit. "Jackal, I'm warning you. I'm in no mood for this shit. Just get out of my way so we can both get on with our lives."

Akabane's eyes narrowed and his spine stiffened. "Midou-kun, I'm going to count to three," he said, his voice slipping into dangerously chilled territory. "If you aren't back in that bed by the time I reach two and a half, I will drag you there myself, snake bites or no snake bites."

"Ha!" Ban coughed, and then several more times when his lungs decided now was a good chance to seize on a phlegm-fit. "I'd like to see you try it!"

Akabane raised a scalpel. "One – "

"Forget it. It's not happening."

"Two – " Another scalpel popped up.

"You're not scaring me one ounce, Jackal!" Ban tensed, preparing to bulldoze his way to the door.

"Three – " They both moved at the same time, a blurring of forms so quick even an experienced fighter would have had trouble tracking them. Even as bad as he felt, Ban still managed to dodge the gloved hands that made a grab for him and got to the door unscathed. He yanked it open and was halfway down the hall before he spun and shot Akabane a taunting smirk.

"Don't wait up, Jackal! Told you – the great Ban Midou always gets his way!" He let loose an explosive sneeze for emphasis.

Akabane stood in the doorway of their apartment, a coolly bemused smile lurking upon his lips. "However do you plan to impress the client like that, Midou-kun?"

"Huh?"

"It's rather hard to make a good impression without the proper attire…"

Even as Akabane said it Ban was cursing, grabbing desperately at the pieces of his shirt – and his pants – and his _underwear!_ – as they fluttered to the floor like so many snowflakes. He was left standing stark naked in the middle of the hallway, and any second any of the other tenants in the building could come out from nowhere –

"You crazy sonofabitch!" he hissed as loud as he dared, scooting back inside the safety of the apartment.

Akabane stood with one hand perched on a shapely hip, the other twiddling a knife between his fingers while he watched the jog of shame. "Flattery will get you nowhere. Bed. Now," he announced sharply. "Or do I have to resort to stricter methods to get my _point_ across?"

"This isn't over," Ban growled, and was saved by the trill of his cell phone. "See? That's probably Hevn now, wondering where the hell me and Ginji are!"

But Akabane had anticipated this as well, and was already snatching up the traitorous device and flipping it open. "Hello? Hevn-san, how nice to hear from you. No, I'm sorry, but Ban-kun can't come tonight," he said smoothly, fending off Ban's furiously sputtering advances. "He's got a rather nasty cold, and I'm keeping him under observation just in case. I do hope you're able to find other arrangements for your assignment…Yes, perhaps it would be best to contact Fuyuki-san – "

"_What?"_ Ban was livid. He clawed at Akabane, trying to grab his phone back. "Give MY job to that mangy monkey-trainer? Don't you dare, Hevn!" he shouted as close to the receiver as he could get before Akabane shoved him back with several bristling scalpels.

" – and a very pleasant evening to you too, Hevn-san," Akabane chirped, ending the call with a flick of the case. He tossed the phone aside to direct his full attention to Ban, clearing his throat deliberately as he raised a hand. "Bloody Stream."

"JACKAL YOU BASTARD!" It wasn't easy, dodging knives and thinking up colorful insults at the same time, but Ban managed well enough, making it to the bedroom in time to slam the door on a cloud of scalpels that planted themselves in it as if it were a giant dartboard. Ban waited until the last blade had thudded into silence, then flung open the door again and snarled, "What the hell was that for!"

Akabane approached and leaned against the wall, smiling now that he knew he'd won this round. "Crude, but effective. Now, are you going to put your pajamas on and get into bed, or do I have to go to the Sagittarius next?"

Ban considered further rebellion, but his outburst had drained considerable energy, and he suddenly felt woozy. He also wasn't keen on experiencing firsthand how Akabane's bloody immobilization attack worked. "Fine." He sneezed. "You're a real fuckin' pain in the ass, you know that, Jackal?" He sneezed again, and again, as he stomped over to the dresser and yanked open a drawer in search of clothing. "I could have had us some money!"

"Yes, and you would have escalated yourself straight into pneumonia," Akabane reprimanded as he recalled his scalpels from the bedroom door. "Cold damp weather is terrible for that sort of thing, Midou-kun, and you already do untold damage to yourself with that wretched smoking of yours - "

Ban stopped in the act of pulling a pant leg up and glared. "Don't start," he hacked out.

"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about," Akabane said. "You don't need to make things any harder on your lungs by going out and pushing yourself all for the sake of a few lousy yen. Money can be replaced. You cannot," he finished on a fonder note as he came closer and helped Ban finish struggling into the pajama top, ignoring his lover's ineffective attempts to bat him away. "Sit down and let me have a better look at you."

"I'm in no mood to play doctor with you," Ban snapped as he finished dressing and downed a handful of throat lozenges. God, how Fuyuki was going to rub this in his face, that jackass. "Just let me stew in my little pharmaceutical cocktail of misery, all right?"

Akabane raised a brow. "Bloody Sag - "

"All right! All right! Jeez!" Ban huffed as he plopped onto the edge of their bed.

Akabane smiled. "I knew you'd see things my way." He took a small flashlight from one of the nightstands and stood in front of Ban, stooping slightly to examine him as he switched it on. "Hmm. Your eyes are fine – no, don't you try Jaganing me, Midou-kun! - yes, you do have that fever..." He switched off the flashlight and pressed his fingers along the sides of Ban's throat, not missing the way the other man winced at the touch, much though Ban tried to cover it. "Put your tongue out and say 'ahh' for me."

"Isn't this how skin flicks get started?"

"You should be thankful I'm not using one of my scalpels as a tongue depressor."

"Heh. Saving that for the thermometer's place, are we?"

"Open, please."

"Bite me."

"Really, Midou-kun." Akabane's lips thinned. "You are being a most uncooperative patient."

"Well hang on to your hat, 'cause it ain't getting any better," Ban growled in mid-cough.

Akabane thought for a moment. "I have one word for you. Enema." Purple eyes caught blue and held them in a challenge.

"You wouldn't dare."

Scalpels hissed forth. "Try me."

"Shiiiiiiiit...!"

"'Ahh' will do just fine instead, thank you."

Ban resisted the urge to punch something. He really was feeling lousy now. Sighing loudly, he opened his mouth and spat out the lozenges into his palm before sticking out his tongue. "Ahh. Eh you hahee how?"

"Hush, so I can have a look here." Akabane switched the flashlight on again and aimed it at the inside of Ban's mouth. "Mmm. Yes, you are rather swollen in there. I don't think it's strep, although I can't confirm that without a culture." He produced a single knife. "Hold very still for me, please. This won't take but a second." And before Ban could slam his jaws shut in protest, Akabane stuck the tip of the scalpel down the retriever's throat, heedless of the other man's gagging surprise. "There we go. Just as I thought, it's your average variety common cold."

"Goddamn, warn a guy before you do that, huh!"

"How long have we been together, Ban-kun? You should be used to having my knives in unusual places by now, hmm?" Akabane teased as he wiped the blade off and put it away. He turned off the flashlight and leaned forward to kiss Ban on the forehead. "Don't worry. I can get you some medicine that will fix this up nicely."

"Great." Ban indulged in a fit of sneezing before eating his lozenges again and falling back onto the bed. "Now can I just die here in peace, please?"

"Of course. Rest is very important for you right now." Akabane waited until Ban had crawled completely onto the mattress and then drew the covers up over him. "I'll go and get you your medicine. In the meantime, you are to get plenty of sleep, drink lots of liquids, and under no circumstances are you leaving this room until you're recovered. Is that clear?"

"So I suppose getting up to pee when I have to is out of the question?" Ban drawled. "Well, that hat of yours is pretty waterproof, it'd probably make a decent bedpan..."

Akabane was not amused. "You _know_ what will happen if you defile my hat. If I catch you out of this bed for any reason other than proper lavatory use, I will borrow Kazuki-san's threads and sew you to it myself – skin first!"

"Hmph. So much for having a compassionate physician. Ever hear of that Hippocratic oath thing?"

Akabane smirked as he twirled a scalpel between his fingers. "It's not technically binding."

XX

Illness, or, as Ban sourly referred to it, "the plague," settled into the Midou-Akabane household with all the grace of a lumbering elephant. Ban may not have been enjoying himself, but Akabane was in his element, which of course riled the infirm patient twice as much.

"Do you have to be so goddamn smug about feeding me that poison you call medicine?" Ban complained one day. "Why can't you just do a Florence Nightingale and give me something that tastes like actual healing for once!"

"You forget, dearest, that if I wasn't so fond of you, I wouldn't be taking care of you in the first place," Akabane cheerfully told him as he doled out another spoonful of the vilest-tasting syrup in existence. "And the worse it tastes, the more good it will do you. That's conventional wisdom. Here you go..."

Ban held his breath and reluctantly swallowed the repulsive medicine. Once he'd finished gagging on it, he glared at Akabane. "Conventional wisdom can suck my balls. We can split atoms and create our own virtual realities. Why the hell can't somebody out there invent a medicine that doesn't taste like rancid shit warmed over?"

"Now, Ban-kun. You know what they say. No pain, no gain." Akabane put the cap back on the medicine bottle and set it on the nightstand. "To correct your earlier assumption, the Nightingale standard only applies to nurses, not doctors."

"Hah. So that's why you insist on torture. Oh. Ugh. Kleenex - !"

Akabane tugged out a slip of tissue from the nearby box and passed it to Ban to stem the sudden flood of mucus pouring out of his nose. "I doubt you'd receive much more sympathy from a nurse than you get from me. Nurses are professionals too. Those in healthcare have to maintain a certain detachment from their clients."

"Tell that to the gaggle of nurses the monkey trainer and I had to put up with once. They had a cow when their matron forbade them to correspond with male patients, so they hired us to retrieve a bunch of love letters." Ban sniffled. He blew his nose in the already-saturated tissue again and flung the wad aside, not caring that it missed the wastebasket by a mile. It joined the dozens of others like it scattered across the floor. "Not that that matters because that stupid clown-joker ended up swiping the whole deal out from under our noses!"

Akabane didn't smile. "Fraternization rules exist for a reason, Ban-kun. Nurses and doctors cannot become involved with their patients because then they cannot objectively treat someone. However is a surgeon to do his job properly if he spends the entire time fretting over a lover when that same lover is on the operating table awaiting intensive surgery? One's mind must be focused on the task at hand, not on emotional folly, lest irreparable mistakes be made."

Ban grabbed for the box of tissues, which Akabane passed to him. He used up three more tissues before answering. "Look, I get the importance of prioritizing, and I'm not arguing that. But don't nurses and doctors have feelings too? Everybody gets a little craving for fun, what's so wrong about that?" He sneezed. "You know, in spite of the torments and lack of bedside manner, you're not too bad at this doctoring gig. At least you know your shit. I've had doctors who couldn't tell their asses from a hole in the ground. I'm lucky none of them prescribed leeches for me." Ban sent several more wads of used tissue sailing towards their floorbound destiny. "How come you gave up medicine, Kuroudo?"

Akabane lowered his eyes. "You know why."

Ban scrunched some pillows for leverage and reached for his mate's hand. "'Course I do. I just want to hear you say it."

Akabane was quiet for a few minutes, letting Ban stroke his palm. Then he smiled and bent over to kiss his cheek. "Now is not the time for such unpleasant discussions. You should be resting."

"I am resting. I've been resting since this last weekend. I'm tired of resting. You won't even let me out of here to read or watch TV," Ban complained. "Even Aesclepius is sick of solitary. I'm getting muscle cramps in my right arm. My hand's been twitchier than Fudou on a crack-Aphrodite-cocktail bender!"

Akabane considered this. "I will permit you access to the living room, so long as you promise me you won't overdo yourself. And I still want you to take things easy for a while, Ban-kun. Your body is replenishing its immune system from its battles with the virus. You don't need a relapse."

"I Ban Midou do solemnly swear that I will park my butt on the couch and not move it unless you say so with instructions written in permanent non-blood-based ink," Ban said in between sniffles. "You don't have to go back to being a surgeon. You could do stuff that isn't so blood-and-guts. Allergy specialist, pediatrician, those kinds of things... Chiropractors make good money, don't they? Oh, I know. Acupuncture. There's the ticket. You can still stick people with pointy things without killing them."

Akabane smiled, forever tolerant of his lover's foibles. He leaned over again and kissed Ban's mouth. "Hush. I will see what I can do regarding suitable entertainment, hmm?"

"A shower trip sometime would be nice too. My head itches and my pjs could get up and walk on their own by now." Ban squirmed around in the sheets, trying to get comfortable. "Told you this wasn't gonna come easy. I warned you, I'd be the worst patient you ever had."

Akabane hesitated. "Actually, no," he said slowly. "There was one gentleman years ago who would hold claim to that distinctive title…"

"Oh yeah?" Ban filled his hands with more kleenex as a precaution and flopped back against the pillows. "What'd he do, throw a bedpan at you?"

"And the food tray, and his IV pole, and the first lieutenant," Akabane replied as he began sorting through the other medicines on the nightstand. "The other medics were quite terrified of him. Semimaru had to help me hold him down in order to administer treatment. But I can't say as I blame the poor man for his temper, really; he was suffering from a kidney stone."

"Ouch."

"Yes, they're very painful. It's time for these now. Open wide."

Ban obeyed, knowing he wouldn't have to taste them, and Akabane popped the pills into his mouth, handing him a glass of water to wash them down. "Very good."

"You know what'd be even better than pills?"

"What?"

Ban leered. "A little Marvin Gaye medicine. Ehh?"

Akabane blinked. His tastes in music didn't always coincide with Ban's. "Beg your pardon?"

Ban dredged up some song lyrics to a pop tune he'd once heard. "'Doctor, doctor, gimme the news, I gotta bad case of lovin' you...' Come on, haven't you ever heard of 'sexual healing?'"

"How clever." Now that he grasped the meaning Akabane pursed his lips. "You must be on the road to improvement, if you can say such things. Dare I hope that this means you'll take me out for a sparring match soon?"

"I'm not that improved."

"Mm-hmm."

"I have a cold, not amoebic dysentery. Sex does boost the immune system," Ban pointed out.

"And stress weakens it," Akabane returned without batting an eye as he got up from the bed. "Now. Get some rest, and I'll be back later to check on you and bring you some dinner."

"_Please_ not chicken noodle soup again."

"It's the best thing for you. It's light on the stomach and has healthy properties. Even animals cut back on their meals when they're ill, Ban-kun."

"I'm not an animal, I'm a human, and this human gets tetchy if he has to subsist on the same thing for three days in a row. They do make other soups besides chicken noodle, you know." Ban's sneeze rattled the windows. "I still say a little nooky would be beneficial to my treatment regiment. Or are doctors not allowed to be horny either?"

Akabane paused to admire the considerable tent forming in the bedsheets. "Oh, they're allowed. But they are experts at developing a resistance to any unprofessional wiles, so I'm afraid your temptations will go neglected."

"You're missing out. I'm an invalid. Totally at your mercy." Ban spread his arms across the bed. "You could administer any treatment you wanted, and I'd be too weak to stop you."

"Careful, Ban-kun," Akabane chuckled. _"Any_ treatment? That leaves a lot open to interpretation..."

"You can interpret it any way you want, so long as I get laid," Ban replied after emptying the tissue box. "Get naked and we'll talk health shop later. By the way, you're on kleenex detail. I need a fresh batch."

Akabane sighed and conceded defeat as he came back to the bed, shaking his head in dismay. "Ban-kun, the wastebasket is not that difficult of a target to miss..."

XX

"You're _sure_ you'll be all right," Ban said, eyeing the pale-faced vision of infirmity who was struggling to knot his tie and hang on to the wad of kleenex in his grasp at the same time.

Akabane sniffled, but managed a thin smile. "I'm sure. We shouldn't be out late anyway; it's a local run. Maguruma will have us back before you know it." He abruptly dropped the ends of his tie and grabbed the tissues, muffling a sneeze in them. "It's just bad timing that I came down with your cold right when I'm supposed to go out…"

"Excuse me?" Ban scowled. "Since when is it my cold when everybody from the Honky Tonk has been dropping like flies over the past week and a half? You could've caught it from any of them. Matter of fact, I bet you did. Have you seen some of Paul's dishes lately? Monkey-nitwit probably has his simian servants licking 'em clean!"

"That's not true," Akabane said, drawing another tissue from his handful. "You know perfectly well – " he sneezed into the kleenex – "that Natsumi-san and Rena-san keep that place spotless. Blaming Wan-san's sanitary practices unfairly isn't very professional."

"He can afford to hire a maid, with the bills he's been charging us."

"Bills that you don't pay anyhow," Akabane said with a distinctly nasal inflection. He closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. "Ahh. I'll be glad when this thing runs its course."

Ban frowned. "Kuroudo, why don't you just bag the night. Seriously. You look like you're two steps away from sporting a J yourself. Stay home and I'll spoil you, huh?"

Akabane reopened his eyes and smiled weakly. "That's a very kind offer, Ban-kun, but we've been planning this job for weeks. I hardly ever get a chance to fight the Komodo brothers."

"There's still some left?" Ban snorted. "Come on, the hedonist in you can't say no to a night of back rubs and pizza."

Akabane coughed out a chuckle. "I'll be fine, Ban-kun. I know what I'm doing."

His fellow transporters didn't think so, however. When Mr. No-Brakes and Lady Poison showed up to collect Doctor Jackal, they took one look at him and concurred with Ban. "Akabane, you look like crap," Himiko said in her diplomatic manner. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"I told him not to go, but he insists on his bloody playtime," Ban answered from his recliner.

A sneeze from the patient in question preempted whatever anyone else had been about to say. They all looked at him and Akabane looked up from his handkerchief and smiled blearily.

"Isn't it nice, Himiko-san? Thousands of years of advancement in medicine, and they still can't find a cure for the common cold."

"You should stay home then if you're sick," Maguruma told him.

Akabane chuckled hoarsely, his silken voice turned somewhat guttural by his cold. "And miss all the fun?"

"Some things never change," Maguruma said with a shrug. "Fair warning, Jackal. If I come down with your plague, you're walking it the next job."

"I will try to keep the spread of illness to a minimum," Akabane said, and sneezed again into his handkerchief. "In all honesty though, Gouzou, if you were going to come down with what I've got, you would have by now. The virus has a certain incubation period where it's most contagious, even without visible symptoms."

"I'll remember that when I bring it home to my family and my wife lets me have it for infecting the whole household," Maguruma replied wryly. "Coming out in this weather can't be doing you any good. You won't be on top of your game like you normally are."

"Don't remind me," Akabane grumbled, his smile slipping.

Ban and Himiko looked at each other. It was a strange time indeed when they could talk about 'normal' and have it mean that Doctor Jackal wasn't meeting his usual quota of kills. Secretly, they were both grateful – Ban because this fit in with his plans, and Himiko because unlike her black-suited cohort, she took no pleasure in depriving others, however wretched their character, of their lives.

"At least take this with you." Ban got up and shoved a bottle of green liquid into Akabane's coat pocket. "Swig some of that every couple of hours, it'll help take the worst of the edge off."

Akabane accepted it with a nod. "Thank you, Ban-kun."

"And don't say I didn't warn you." Ban nodded at the other transporters. "Happy trails, kids. I've got my cell on in case you have to ring me."

No such call as he was expecting did come, however, so Ban spent the evening playing cards with Ginji and tacking up extra recovery flyers. As the hour grew later, he returned home to pass the time with a mystery novel that Maria had loaned him, kicking off his boots so that the cats could curl up on his feet. Finally a knock on the door interrupted his reading.

Ban shut his book and leaned back against the couch. "It's open," he called out, and wasn't surprised in the least when a trio of transporters – one of whom lolled unconscious in Maguruma's arms – entered his dwelling.

"Where do you want this?" the big man asked calmly, indicating his baggage.

"Bedroom. Do I get to say it, or would you like the honor of that pleasure?" Ban drawled as Maguruma promptly carried Akabane into the bedroom and unceremoniously dumped him onto the mattress.

"I think there's plenty to share. Right, Himiko?"

She nodded, tossing the big black hat she held onto a chair. "Biggest 'I-told-you-so' to come his way in ages."

Ban grumbled as they gathered around the bed. "Stupid Jackal," he grunted, beginning to remove his mate's clothing. "Dammit, and he's running a fever too. I guess it's really true what they say, doctors are their own worst patients."

"You don't know the half of it," Maguruma told him, somewhat sympathetically. "Akabane almost never catches anything when there's a bug going around, but if he gets hit he goes down _hard._ If I were you I'd run down to the liquor store and pick up a bottle of the best one-ninety-proof you can find while he's still out. Your life's going to be pretty unpleasant for a while." He nodded to both Ban and Himiko. "See you around."

"Later, Maguruma," Himiko said.

Ban frowned after the other man left. He looked to Himiko. "He's just messing with me, right? I mean, Akabane's not that hard to handle when he's sick…is he?"

She shrugged. "You tell me. You're the one shacked up with him. I've never witnessed it myself so I couldn't say, but Maguruma's not the exaggerating type, I can assure you."

"Just what I wanted to hear," Ban muttered. "What'd he do, puke up one too many scalpels?"

"Worse," Himiko said. "We were in the middle of a fight, and this extra guy jumped us. The Komodos figure they don't have too many lives left so they hired some muscle from another gang. Akabane went to charge him and fell stone cold in mid-attack. It actually helped us, because the Komodos were too surprised to do anything but stare, so we were able to grab our item and get out of there before the fight got really bad."

"Oh man." Ban pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't tell him that, he'll never live it down." He fished through the coat pockets and found the nearly-emptied bottle of medicine. "Holy shit. He drank all that? No wonder he passed out. This stuff would clobber a rhino."

"He kept complaining that he needed extra tissues for his nose," Himiko nodded. "I offered him some of my sleep perfume so he could rest during the drive, but he got cranky and said he was strong enough to stay alert. He can be temperamental even on the best of transports, Ban, but tonight he was a royal pain."

"You would be too if your brains kept dripping out your nose," Ban said without rancor. "You're right though, it's his own fault for not listening to us. Guess I'd better raid the emergency rations and hit the pharmacy before he wakes up."

"And the liquor store," Himiko reminded him. "I'd take Maguruma's advice if I were you. And declaw Akabane while you still have the chance."

They studied the unconscious transporter, whose black hair fanned out across the mattress like a storm cloud. With his fine features composed into perfect relaxation, Akabane looked deceptively innocent – only the two people watching him knew what kind of a ferocity that serene exterior concealed. "Good point," Ban muttered, and then winced at his unintentional pun. "Mind loaning me one of those sleep vials? It'll make dosing him easier."

Himiko unbelted her waist harness and handed the entire set to him. "Might as well use what you need. There's sleep, oblivion, flame, and paralysis, among others. Get him to inhale the perfumes orally if you can, since he's probably too congested for them to affect his nasal passages."

Ban took the perfume harness with a raised brow. "I take back almost every bad thing I ever said about you, little sis."

XX

TBC


	49. Going For The Gold part 3

Maguruma's warning wasn't unfounded. For the first time Ban got an up close and personal look at what his lover was like when he was truly clobbered by illness – and the experience left him vowing that if Akabane ever got sick again he'd drug the man unconscious to the gills for the duration of the plague.

"I'm not eating that." Akabane shoved the food tray back at Ban. "There's no point when I can't even taste it!" He sniffled loudly for emphasis.

"You're not supposed to enjoy it. You're sick, remember?" Ban suppressed another sigh. "The whole point of soup is to put a few nutrients in your stomach so you're not running on empty all the time. Look, I even threw in some of those nice little oyster crackers. Put a bit of butter on them, they're not bad."

Akabane cast a thinly veiled glare over the contents being proffered once more. "There's no knife for the butter. Why is there no knife?" he growled.

Ban frowned at him. "You know darn well why there's no knife. It doesn't matter anyway. Just use your fingers."

Akabane tossed the packet of crackers at his head. "I refuse to smear butter on food like some sort of heathen. Bring me a knife!"

"Forget it. One, you're acting like a heathen right now, and two, no way in hell am I giving you an easy shot at me with that pissy mood," Ban said, ducking and catching the packet. "Do you want the crackers or not?"

"Fine," Akabane grumbled as he plopped the spoon into the soup with a sour look. His eyes narrowed when he saw what else Ban had brought with him. "If you don't put that back in the cabinet this instant, you're going to lose a hand instead of a shirt this time."

Ban dropped the crackers next to the bowl of soup and shook the bottle of medicine before opening it. "You don't have your nasty little arsenal with you any more, remember?"

Akabane bared his teeth. "I have other ways."

"One tooth-mark from you, pal, and I'll put my own set of fangs into your hide and rip you an even bigger asshole than the one you were born with," Ban warned. "We've been through this before. We both know I'm going to win the battle, so shut up and drink your medicine like a good little Jackal so I don't have to tie you to the bed again and pour it down your throat."

"I hate you," Akabane spat. "You couldn't even be bothered to get something decent, you had to buy the foulest muck in existence just to torture me!"

"Look at it this way, you're so fond of death that you can have a reminder of what it tastes like every time," Ban said, and pointed the bottle's measuring cap at him.

Akabane glared death at the medicine. Then he slapped the dose out of Ban's hand and snarled an expletive that not coincidentally rhymed with his earlier description of its taste.

Ban cursed up a storm of his own as he wiped off the splatters from his shirt. "For Chrissakes, I've seen brats less than half my age behave better when they're sick!" He pulled out a vial from his jeans pocket. "That's it, you're taking that medicine and you're liking it if it's the last thing I do!"

"That can be arranged," Akabane snapped, curling his fingers into fists.

The fight was brief but devastating. Fisticuffs and broken furniture aside, Himiko's flame perfume packed a wallop on drapery and bedsheets. Ban finally got Akabane forced into a corner and yanked out the vial of sleep potion to use next; he almost didn't make it when Akabane plowed into him and struggled for control of the bottle. By either chance or good timing, the cork popped and the trigger mechanism spewed the brunt of the scent right into Akabane's face, and he was out like a light in two seconds.

Ban grabbed the medicine bottle and dumped what he hoped was a reasonable amount into the transporter's slack mouth, then threw it aside and hauled his unconscious patient back to bed. He stuffed Akabane into the covers and wiped the sweat from his own brow as he contemplated asking Himiko for another round of perfumes. He'd already used up half the stash, and it was only Saturday.

"If I have to keep doing this for the next week there's gonna be blood on the floor and not all of it'll be mine. Shit," he muttered to himself.

That bottle of hard liquor sounded really good about now.

XX

"Hello, Ginji-kun. I'm sick," Akabane droopily informed his visitors when they filed into the room. As congested as he was, most of his consonants all came out sounding more like b's and d's instead of the originals, resulting in a garble of words.

"Wow, that's a bad cold you have," Ginji said sympathetically. "I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you. At least someone around here knows how to treat the suffering," Akabane replied with a baleful glare at Ban. Deep shadows beneath his eyes and an abnormally pale complexion offered proof of his ailing. "Do you know how mean Ban-kun is being to me right now?"

"Ignore him," Ban told Ginji bluntly. "He's just sucking up for sympathy."

"He won't even let me watch television or read in the other room," Akabane whined. "I have to stay in bed all day, being bored!"

Ginji looked from him to Ban, a frown settling on his normally happy features. "Ban-chan," he said with a hint of reproach. "You gotta let Akabane-san have something for entertainment…"

"No way. He'll watch old movies until the sun comes up instead of resting, he's such a stubborn weasel," Ban said.

Ginji grinned. "Kind of like you, huh, Ban-chan?"

"That's different," Ban snapped.

"Sure it is," Ginji said, covering a snicker behind his hand. He decided to examine the bounty of pharmaceuticals on the nightstand when Ban shot him an incendiary scowl. "Wow, Akabane-san. You sure have a lot of stuff here."

"And none of it tastes good!" Akabane sulked. "I hate that red one! It's positively awful! And Ban-kun makes me drink two capfuls of it three times a day! He didn't even buy me the fruit lozenges that he knows I like, he brought home these disgusting zinc things that make me even more nauseated than I already am!"

"I told you, the drugstore was out. Those were the only lozenges available; would you rather I left you to sandpaper your scratchy throat to bloody ribbons?"

Purple daggers impaled him from beneath the mop of dark hair. "You just didn't want to chance running into Fuyuki-san at the store the next block over, because you know he patronizes it so he won't have to run into you. Coward," Akabane taunted.

"Crybaby," Ban shot back.

"Only because you're being so mean to me right now!" Akabane snarled.

"Sucks to be you, sweetheart," Ban told him. "Seems to me I remember a certain physician crowing about how the grossest stuff is supposed to be the best while he was force-feeding me the same crap!"

Akabane peered at him through a curtain of messy unwashed hair. "When I get my knives back you are a dead man. Dead!"

Ginji gulped and lifted his hands, waving them at the two. "Now, Akabane-san, Ban-chan, let's not get too worked up here..."

"That reminds me." Ban strolled over to the bed and patted his mate's blanket-shrouded shoulders. "Your last bowl of soup was missing a utensil. I want it back."

Akabane shivered and pulled the covers tighter around himself as he hunched over in a sneeze. "What are you talking about?"

Ban looked at an inquisitive Ginji. "Declawed Jackal. Still as wild as ever, but easier to handle when you know he's not going to turn pincushion on you. As long as you don't give him any source materials to work with." He looked back at Akabane and spoke in a slightly sharper tone. "Now, Kuroudo."

Akabane could look remarkably childish when his face was curdled into a pout. "Go away. I'm tired."

"I will as soon as you fork over the metal," Ban said. "Are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?"

Akabane hissed at him. "Drop dead."

"Hard way it is then," Ban agreed, and lurched onto the bed over a scrambling transporter. Akabane pushed and kicked at him in an attempt to knock him off the mattress, but Ban latched onto the other man's ankle and dragged him back. He pinned Akabane on the bed and shoved off the covers he'd cocooned himself in.

"MIDOU-KUN!"

"Laugh it up, my prickly pet!"

Ginji stood slack-jawed while his partner began tickling his lover. Not that he'd never witnessed Ban's mercilessness in action – he knew firsthand how the B in Get Backers went straight for the tickle-kill – but he'd never have expected the tactic to work on a transporter, especially a homicidal one.

Ban noticed his rapt attention. "Yeah, Ginji? You might wanna duck out of the way there."

No sooner had he issued this warning than Akabane unleashed a shuddering wet sneeze explosive enough to blow down a small barn. Ginji flinched when he felt something zip by his cheek, and rubbed at his face, thinking he'd gotten splashed with stray snot globules – Akabane hadn't had time to grab for a tissue, after all. He spied a streak of red on his fingers and blanched when he realized he'd been cut. Ginji turned around and saw a lone scalpel, processed from the metal spoon Ban had provided with the soup, sticking straight out of the wall behind him.

"...I think I need to go change my shorts now..."

Ban released a squalling Akabane and got up with a mock bow to collect the knife. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, we'll be here all night."

"Killjoy," Akabane snarled at his lover, and sneezed once more as he fell over on the pillows.

XX

The missing silverware returned to its rightful place (albeit in a different form than it had previously occupied), Ban busied himself with cleaning up the latest batch of used tissue refuse, lozenge wrappers, and pill boxes that had perished miserably at the sick transporter's hands. Freed from the constraints of civility and indefinitely quarantined from public due to his illness, Akabane had dispensed with his usual good graces and was downright crotchety to deal with.

As he marveled at the delicate strips that plastic medicine bottles could be dissected into, Ban was glad he'd taken Himiko's advice and deprived his lover of his weapons while he'd had the opportunity.

On the way back from dumping the trash and picking up some necessary items from the pantry he found Ginji in the hallway cackling quietly to himself.

"What's so funny?"

Ginji had a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. He looked around to make sure it was just the two of them, and then leaned closer to Ban and spoke in a low voice. "I have the best idea ever. I'm gonna get back at Akabane-san for the time he came to see me when I was in the hospital!"

Ban raised a brow. "How's that? Going to hide an electric buzzer in the box of facial tissue?"

"Better!" Ginji paused for dramatic effect before making his announcement. "I'm sending him a fruit basket!"

Silence reigned for a full minute while Ban waited for further detail, expecting his partner to expound upon his 'revenge'. When Ginji didn't speak, he did. "That's it? That's your great amazing plan?"

"Yup!" Ginji rubbed his hands together. "Won't Akabane-san be surprised when it shows up!"

Ban stared at him. "Ginji, do me a favor," he said slowly.

"Sure, Ban-chan. What?"

"Stop sticking your fingers into the electrical sockets every time you need a quick juice fix. I think it's cooking what's left of your brain."

"Oh. Okay."

A creaking noise drew their attention. Akabane, clad in a pair of boxers and a half-buttoned pajama top that was slipping from one shoulder, toddled into the hall clutching a fistful of tissues. He looked skinnier than usual, no doubt because he hadn't had much to eat besides soup and a few crackers in the past couple of days. He shoved past Ban and Ginji without so much as an excusing of his passage.

Ginji tried to be helpful. "Aw, cheer up and smile, Akabane-san. You'll be better soon."

Akabane stopped in his slouch toward the kitchen. He turned halfway around and the razor slit of purple fury in his face could have laid waste to entire acres of solid rock. Without a word he turned away and continued on his lethal path.

Ginji's face had gone nearly as white as the Jackal's shorts. "He's going to kill me, isn't he, Ban-chan?" he whispered.

Ban shrugged. "Probably. Don't let it bug you. Few more days with the dream juice - " he held up a bottle of green medicine and jostled it around - "and he'll be back to his mellow murdering self in no time."

"Why don't I find that reassuring?" Ginji wondered aloud. He nudged his friend. "You're taking this all awfully well, Ban-chan. What's your secret?"

Ban's eyes half-closed in ripe satisfaction as he held up the other bottle, a considerably larger one, in his hand. "My gift for strategy and a whole helluva lot of Mr. Daniels' finest cooperation."

XX

Eventually, as everything in life did, illness ran its course with the denizens of Shinjuku and daily activities resumed their regular balance. Or so one retriever thought when he took up his latest moneymaking scheme...

"Why are we here?" Akabane asked when the Subaru pulled off the main road and plowed a path into the closest field.

"Undercover mission," Ban explained as he parked. They got out of the car. "Ginji and I nailed this sweet deal with a bigwig from Okinawa. Successful infiltration of our target requires a crash course in archery. Just enough to blend in so's we can get friendly with the item we're supposed to recover," he said as he pushed back the driver's seat and pulled out a bow and quiver containing a dozen arrows.

Akabane followed him towards the center of the field. "Oh, I could help you with that, Ban-kun! I took archery during my sophomore year of boarding school. I was one of the topmost ranked in my class."

"Why does that not surprise me," Ban half-muttered, half-chuckled as he unfolded and strung the bow. "Shooting arrows can't be that much different from flinging a few knives. Just pull back and let fly."

He tried to demonstrate by nocking an arrow on the bow, but instead of flying true the arrow took a nosedive into the ground. "Okay. Nobody ever gets their first try right. Just need a little practice, is all..."

A half-hour, dozens of bent or broken arrows, and a plethora of obscenities later Ban wasn't having much luck in honing his talents at archery. Finally a resigned Akabane went to him and stopped him from nearly snapping the bow in half from frustration.

"Here, Ban-kun. The secret to a perfect shot is to let the tension in the bowstring do the work for you. You're pushing too much with your arm." Akabane took the bow from him and prepared to nock an arrow. "See? Pull back as far as the tension permits you, and..." His fingertips released the arrow, which flew straight into the nearest tree with a solid thunk. "All you need to do is loose the arrow with your fingers."

"I know that," an irritable Ban grumbled. "Sheesh, a four-year-old could do it..." But once again he failed to heed his lover's advice, and the next arrow took a fast trip right into the bushes.

"You're still pushing," Akabane said. "Aesclepius isn't necessary for this type of strength. The only thing you need to do once you have your aim in sight is release." He demonstrated by raising his fingers, pinched together, and then popping them open as if freeing his catch, without ever moving his hand or arm.

"The wind messed me up," Ban snarled as he raked a hand through his hair, which was remarkably unruffled by the nonexistent breeze.

"Of course." Akabane smiled tolerance through the next several of his beloved's attempts, but when Ban threatened a swift Snakebite to the bow that was giving him such fits, the transporter saw fit to intervene once more.

"Ban-kun. Watch me," Akabane gently scolded as he took back the bow.

"Maybe Ginji and I can just fake being club staff instead of members..." Ban mused.

"Shh. Watch." Akabane nocked another arrow and pulled back on the string. As the bow, in full setup, was at least as tall as a man, the retracted string took quite a bit of pull, and in correct pose it pressed up against the underside of the brim of Akabane's hat, bending it upward. Ban would have laughed at the ridiculous sight but for the fact that the look on Kuroudo's face was quite solemn – he took anything involving weaponry and battle dead serious, pun intended – so he kept his amusement muffled and stood back to observe the lesson.

Akabane held his form a moment longer, squinting one eye at the tree that he'd already dealt a stab wound to, then flicked his fingers apart, the only part of him to move. An eyeblink later, the unfortunate tree was studded with a second decoration.

"Not bad. If that had been an enemy, he'd be gone before you had time to give him your autograph," Ban begrudgingly admitted. He was annoyed that Akabane seemed to handle these things with such disturbing ease. This was supposed to be his mission; he was the star retriever here, after all.

Akabane beamed at the praise. "I'll do one more for your benefit." He placed his weapon and struck his pose, but just before he could release the arrow Ban put out his foot and lightly jarred the bottom half of the bow. The instrument jerked in Akabane's hand and he aimed higher than he had intended, the arrow sailing overhead into the blue skies.

"Ban-kun, this is no time for practical jokes - " Akabane broke off and both men stared when a loud screech above heralded the impending crash of the now-dead passerby into the ground at their feet.

"Oh shit. Is that one of those nesting species from the endangered lists?" Ban hesitated, then made a face as he gingerly reached down and pulled the bloody missile out of the vanquished bird.

"Didn't they recently raise the fines for illegal poaching?" Akabane asked.

"Crap. Grab the junk and let's get the hell out of here before somebody spots us!"

An agreeable Akabane helped him gather together the rest of the archery equipment and tote it back to the Ladybug. "I thought those things were extinct," Ban muttered as they hustled inside the car for a fast getaway.

Akabane favored him with a smug smile. "They are now."

Ban whipped the car out onto the road. "Look, Fuyuki can never know about this, okay? I don't need monkeymania breathing a bunch of vengeful crows down my back."

Akabane's brow did a sensuous caterpillar arch and the hairs on the back of Ban's neck instantly shot up.

"That depends, Midou-kun."

Ban took his focus off the road long enough to drill him with a stare. "What do you mean, 'that depends?'"

The transporter's face took on a deliciously wicked cast. "I've gotten tired of the usual opposition lately," Akabane declared archly. "I would like something a little more challenging to play with soon." His eyes suddenly lit with feral glee. "Miroku Seven!"

"Forget it. We talked about that, remember? I'd sooner you poked sticks at Fudou if you want battle-time jollies."

The smile evaporated. The eyebrow did another sharp bend. Akabane said nothing, but raised his hand. A flash of silver gleamed against the white glove.

Ban glanced at the cell phone, then to Akabane. He waited.

Akabane flipped the phone open. "Miroku Seven," he purred, "or I call the Beastmaster right now and tell him what you just did."

"Hey, you were the one holding the bow!"

"Yes, but you were the one who disrupted my concentration knowing that my intended target was the tree instead of the bird. Therefore you are the one responsible for its passing."

Ban groaned. Jackal-logic might twist one's brain into knots, but the crazy had a certain truth to it anyway. He let his forehead bump the top of the steering wheel as he ground out a slow hiss. "Natsuhiko's not gonna let me off easy on this one, the son of a bitch."

Content now that he had gotten his way, Akabane put the phone away and patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I knew you'd see reason sooner or later, dearest. Don't look so gloomy. I'm sure that if you discuss it nicely with him, Natsuhiko-kun would be delighted to let you join in the fun."

"Sure he would," Ban muttered. "Only he likes to let his sword do the discussion!"

"What a coincidence," Akabane mused with a smile. "So do I."

XX

"I've got good news and bad news," Maguruma said as the transporters sat down to breakfast one Monday morning at the Honky Tonk. "Who wants to go first?"

Ever the practical one, Himiko said, "Bad news first, then I know how strong to order my coffee."

"Well that's hardly a sunny attitude," Akabane chided. He looked at Maguruma. "Surely it can't be that bad. But all just the same, let's start with the good news and work from there. Hmm?"

Himiko shrugged. She already had a feeling she was going to be taking her coffee straight from the pot anyway.

Maguruma rolled his own shoulders. "Well. It's more for your benefit than ours." At Akabane's raised brow, he continued, once Paul had taken their orders and poured them all fresh drinks. "Good news is that if you play your cards right you'll be able to tangle with an entire party this coming weekend. Rumor has it that a protection service called the Miroku Seven might be guarding the same item we're supposed to transport."

Himiko groaned, while Akabane's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh my. That is very good news indeed," he purred, smile curling like the quintessential Cheshire cat's. He took a sip of his tea. "And the bad news?"

"It's a bugger this time. Client's sending us some extra passengers. For protection, he says. To piss us off, I say."

Akabane shrugged. "I don't mind. We've partnered with other transporters in the past. Why should this one be any different?"

Maguruma gave him a sour smile. "You haven't heard who it is. I almost walked right after he told me, except that my kids are going to need new clothes soon and Suzume's thinking about expanding her restaurant." He spread his hands in a half-shrug. "Hell. Maybe I should walk. Other jobs come along, right? Better ones..."

Himiko sat up in her seat, dread withering her features into a ferocious scowl. "Don't string us along, Maguruma. Who's the client sending?"

Akabane went to take another sip of his tea, casting her a curious glance, before turning to Maguruma. "Yes, do tell."

"Varlou."

There was a muffled wet gasp of tea being spluttered and choked on. Akabane had frozen in his seat, cup still raised to his lips. He blinked several times, composing himself and ignoring the burn of accidentally inhaled liquid. After a moment, he cast a glance at his partner and said in icily polite tones, "Correct me if I'm wrong, Gouzou, but…did you mention _that_ name? The one that we despise above all others? The one that we shall not speak aloud in polite company because it is pure blasphemy?"

In spite of himself the driver grinned at his cohort's display of temper. "Varlou?"

Akabane's eyes slipped shut. He slowly lowered his cup to the counter. When those purple eyes reopened they landed on Maguruma with deathly intent. "Why would _he_ be involved? He ought to be roasting like a plucked chicken on the sands of St. Tropez, last I had heard."

Maguruma shrugged. "Client's paranoid. Told me he hired him and the rest of that riffraff he hangs with to 'help' us make the run."

Himiko slammed a fist on the table. "We can't do a run with the Party Crashers! Everyone who's anyone in the transport world knows it wouldn't work! They'll ruin everything like they always do and take all the credit. And the money!"

"Never mind the money," Akabane said waspishly. "They spoil any chance at fun!"

"They just spoil everything, period," Himiko grumbled. "This client must be out of the loop. What was he thinking, hiring both us and the Crashers!"

"Apparently he believes in overkill," Maguruma said.

"Oh, there _will_ be overkill, with Varlou around," Akabane growled softly.

Nearby, Kazuki Fuuchouin was intrigued. He gave Maguruma a curious look, which then shifted to Himiko, and then to Akabane. How interesting that Doctor Jackal had shown a rare flash of emotion. Momentarily putting aside his concern about retaliation for his eavesdropping, he ventured entrance into the conversation. "I don't understand. Who's this Varlou and what's so bad about him?"

All three transporters looked at him, then spoke at once. "A double-crossing dirtbag - " Maguruma started to say.

"An insufferable jerk - " Himiko fumed.

"A disreputable agent!" sniffed Akabane. "He's extremely unprofessional, and he never allows others to have any fun on a mission."

Kazuki and Maguruma looked at each other.

The burly man shrugged. "Varlou has had something of a crush on Akabane for ages."

"Gouzou!" Akabane hissed, long fingers curving clawlike around his cup.

"I take it this infatuation is completely one-sided," Kazuki said dryly.

"That's putting it mildly," Himiko said. "Varlou gets this sick pleasure out of annoying every transporter between here and the Honshu mountains. Rumor has it there's a bounty on him but no one's ever been able to collect. The little rat-fink has a gift for running and hiding, or else his hide would've been nailed to a wall ages ago."

Kazuki raised a brow at the venom in her tone. "By you or Doctor Jackal?"

Akabane and Himiko looked at each other. "Take your pick," Himiko replied.

Kazuki managed to withhold the smile threatening to mar his curiosity. "Himiko-san, if you'll forgive my asking…don't transporters usually make a better living than, say, retrievers?"

She gave off a low chuckle of her own, sounding uncannily like Akabane. "Usually. But we're dependent on the whims of the client. It's a very fluid business, and like any business it has its periods of stagnancy. You're in information; I'm sure you experience slow stretches where there's no worthwhile chatter."

"Of course."

Kazuki left his booth and settled at the counter to watch as Paul returned with the food and prepared another batch of coffee. Himiko continued in between bites of her scrambled eggs, now that she had a ready audience to expend her vitriol upon. "The times that we do land a contract, we often have to contend with interferences like the retrievers themselves. Or rival transporters – the one we were discussing is notorious for trying to steal others' contracts so he can hoard the best-paying clients for himself. There's a lot of repeat business so yes, a good transporter can build up a small fortune in a short time, if he – or she – proves themselves to be reliable." Himiko's starch posture and tone indicated that she was clearly proud of her skills in this department.

"So there's a grudge match involved."

Maguruma nodded, a grimace washing over his face as he polished off his hash browns in short order. "The bum's a renegade. Once a contract's been issued, you don't butt in on it if it belongs to someone else. Doing that makes the original hire lose face in front of the client, and that person might as well be roadkill."

"A weak mark is something no transport agent can afford," Akabane nodded, along with Himiko's hum of agreement.

"Varlou would betray his own mother if he thought it paid well enough," Maguruma said.

"His mouth is almost as big as Ban's, and he's got the ability to back it up, unfortunately for us," Himiko added. "It's common knowledge among most of the _hakobiya_ that if we ever corner him, Maguruma's taken bets as to how Akabane and I will split the difference." Her lips thinned in grim amusement. "Literally."

"You may have his hindquarters, but I still call dibs on his head," Akabane said, neatly finishing off his two pieces of toast as he cut them – with a fork – into precise little shapes. "I want to see the look on that scoundrel's face when I put a stop to his shenanigans once and for all."

"Not if I get there first," Himiko countered. "You'll be lucky if there's anything left to carve up once I fry him with my flame scent!"

"Tsk, tsk. Greed is most unbecoming, Himiko-san..."

Kazuki laughed quietly, finding an odd amusement in the ire with which the stranger was held, or perhaps he was entertained by the transporters' candor. "Well, other than greediness, what exactly did this Varlou do to land himself in hot water with you guys?"

"He stole one of my scalpels!" Akabane suddenly huffed before either of his cohorts could respond. He leveled Kazuki with a frigid glare, his voice streaming out in an arctic hiss. "I had precisely one hundred and ten source materials before that wretched man crossed my path one day! One hundred and ten! I detest uneven numbers. It's not proper," he groused, turning back to the table to sulk in his tea.

"I thought it was a hundred and eight," Kazuki ventured. "Or was that before your parental inheritance kicked in?" Like everyone else, he'd heard about the reconciliation between Akabane and his father, Alistair.

Akabane lifted a gloved hand and a glowing blue spire extended from between his index and middle fingers. "Valentine's Day gift from Midou-kun," he said curtly, before withdrawing the one hundred-and-ninth knife, his father's one hundred-and-tenth blade nestled cleanly next to it.

"Ahh."

"Before Himiko came along as Lady Poison, I worked a job once where Jackal and I were partnered with the Party Crashers," Maguruma said, taking pity on Kazuki's insatiable interest. "I wasn't happy when I heard about the addition because I'd already heard of their reputation. But I went along with it because the client was offering a lot of money and at the time, I was trying to help put my wife through a business management course."

The story was put on hold while Paul returned to take the coffeepot and teapot off their warmers and pour everyone a fresh serving; so long as the money kept flowing, he had little problem with dispensing his wares. Thus refreshed, Himiko picked up where Maguruma had left off.

"Varlou betrayed them – went behind their backs to the client ahead of time and picked up the payment to keep for himself. Said he'd done all the work and that No-Brakes and Jackal had never even shown up. By the time Maguruma found out, Varlou had vanished into thin air. No one's ever been able to track him; they don't even know where he comes from or what his real name is. 'Varlou' is just the alias he uses. But that's not uncommon for people in our line of work."

The big man across from her nodded. "I'll run that dirty-dealing son of a bitch over with my truck if I ever come across him again." He cast a furtive glance at Paul, expecting a rebuke. "Eh, pardon my French."

"I've heard a lot worse from Ban, trust me," the shopkeeper assured him.

"I can just imagine what kind of fit you probably threw," Kazuki dared to say to Akabane.

Maguruma answered for him. "Actually, Jackal wasn't that upset. He wasn't thrilled with the blight cast on his professional attributes, sure. But money's not his thing, so he didn't have as much stake in the mission as I did."

"Then why such animosity? Surely a missing scalpel can be easily replaced."

"It's the principle of the matter," Akabane coldly informed the other man. "Besides, I liked that scalpel. It cut very nicely through - " He noticed Kazuki staring at him, and frowned. "Melons. Really, Kazuki-san. What did you think I was going to say?"

The threadmaster coughed awkwardly. "You don't strike me as someone who stoops to petty feuding," Kazuki said, thinking with no small measure of regret of his own myriad clan, as thoughts of the Ura faction's enmity against the Omote's surfaced in the rear of his mind.

Himiko shook her head. "Kazuki-san, in case you hadn't noticed, Akabane has a very distinct signature. He's so fast that his J's never take more than three and a half moves to complete, and they're always done in a single long cut that arcs sharply as it forms the outline."

"Like this," Akabane said, and demonstrated by seamlessly tracing the letter in the air with a knife-free fingertip. "There have been copycats, of course, but no one can even come close to equaling my skill. It's a rare art form in its own unique category," he declared, ignoring the green looks of unease his announcement garnered.

Maguruma contemplated his remaining coffee while Paul discreetly removed their finished plates. "Varlou puts the J-mark on some of his own victims. It's a way to further tweak Jackal's nose so that those unfamiliar with his work will think he's responsible for the sloppiness."

"And he also likes to sign his name, his full name, on the bodies he does want to claim as his own," Himiko put in.

Kazuki needed a few seconds to ease the coffee in his mouth down his throat, lest he choke on it in a fit of sputtering disbelief. "Wait – wait a minute. You're telling me that Doctor Jackal has it in for a man who _stole his signature killing protocol_?" he finally gasped out.

"It's a point of honor!" Akabane growled, his nose in the air. "Just because it's a battle doesn't mean there are no rules to observe. Consistency in due course is a must. I refuse to allow some pampered upstart to believe he's exempt from those rules, if he's going to play in _our_ territory." He downed the last of his tea and rose from his seat to pay Paul.

"Not gonna join us then, huh?" Maguruma prompted him.

Akabane concluded his transaction with Paul and shot his cohort a baleful look. "I would rather spend the weekend hooked up to an ice-cold catheter than dignify that vulgarian's insults with my presence!"

"Too bad. You'll miss all the fun," Gouzou teased.

"Hmph! You'll be spending the night parked on the street bored out of your skull. Meanwhile the Party Crashers will have snuck in the back way, stolen the item and made fools of us once more," Akabane said. "I'm sure Midou-kun and I can find better ways to waste the evening away."

Paul looked up from his newspaper. "I thought you were the best," he said.

Akabane paused in the doorway of the Honky Tonk. "I am," he said tartly. "But I do not quarrel with my fellow transport workers...without due cause," he finished, lowering his eyes momentarily before raising them to the others again. "It's most unbecoming to a gentleman. Good day, everyone."

"Don't even try to strain yourself attempting to figure him out," Maguruma advised Paul once Akabane was gone. "I gave up twisting my brain into bow ties a long time ago."

Paul just shook his head and went back to reading his paper. Sometimes it was better not to ask.

XX

TBC


	50. Going For The Gold part 4

The week trudged onward, with Ban and Akabane making do with what employment offers they had, and each doing his best not to kill the mission – in more ways than one. But as Friday drew closer, the pair discovered a snag that they hadn't banked on.

"Hey, Akabane."

Akabane went into the office, where he found Ban hunched at the desk. Ban shuffled a few papers aside and set down the pen he'd been gnawing into a stump. He swiveled around in the chair to face the other man.

"I've been working the numbers..." Ban hesitated. "I don't think we're gonna have enough to make it to Europe this year."

Akabane frowned slightly. "Even with our mission bonuses?"

"Yeah. I've tried cutting out everything I can, right down to the bare bones, but we still come up short."

"How much?"

Ban sighed and named a figure. "That's deutschemarks, mind you. Plus the transfer to francs and pounds when we hit a few other stops, and the safety cushion for a backup. I figure we need at least another two million in order to be secure."

Akabane leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. "How does your schedule look?"

"It doesn't. Yours?"

Akabane paused, thinking of the proffered mission with Varlou that Maguruma had told him of. "The same. I might get another call. I might not."

"Figures." Ban slouched in his seat, resting his arms on the sides of it. "Well, I guess that's it. We're grounded. I can't think of any other way to come up with the money." He smiled weakly at Akabane. "Sorry, Jackal."

Akabane went to him, kneeling at his feet and rubbing his thigh. "It's not your fault, Ban-kun. You worked really hard. We'll just have to postpone it for another time, that's all."

Ban caught one of his hands and nuzzled the back of its gloveless form. "Yeah, but I know how much you were looking forward to this trip. So was I."

Akabane squeezed the hand that kept his. "Don't let it bother you. I'm sure something will come up. The business is a fluid market, after all. You never know what surprises might hold in store..."

"Maybe, but I'm not holding my breath for any miracles. If we're to get one it has to show its face by a week from Friday. I have to book all our reservations in advance so we can be sure we get the placements we want. Cutoff date's that following weekend. If I don't wire them the deposit by closing then, we lose the spots," Ban explained. "And at this time of year, everybody and their mother is itching to book a hold. If we tried for a later date it'd be next to impossible to get in."

"Mmm." Akabane rose to his feet and spent a few moments massaging Ban's shoulders. "Don't give up yet, Ban-kun. I'll see what I can do. We might yet make the financial mark in time..."

Ban leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. "You're a prince, Kuroudo, but don't knock yourself out on my account. If we have to wait till next year, we just have to wait till next year to do it, that's all."

Akabane dipped his head and kissed Ban's cheek. "I don't like waiting for what I want."

Ban reached up and ruffled a lock of ebony hair. "Sure you do. You chased me and Ginji around all the time, remember?"

"That's because you were worth the wait."

"Well, there you are. Some things are worth the wait," Ban said.

Akabane smiled and nuzzled him. "Touche'. All just the same though, I would still like some instant gratification."

"So would my pants," Ban leered.

Akabane came around to face him, gently tapping a bare fingertip on the end of Ban's nose. "Later," he promised, dusk-purple eyes turning sultry for a second as tantalizing secrets danced within. "Now is the time for us to plan strategy, my dearest."

"Strategy? We've been busting our humps for weeks, trying to get money - "

Akabane took up a notepad and pen, assuming the air of a general preparing to lay out his challenge. "We must find other ways to gather the funding, if our conventional methods aren't enough. That means we must first assess our current budget and prune it of any unnecessary expenses."

He pointed the tip of the pen at the small box sticking partway up out of Ban's shirt pocket. "No cigarettes from now on. They cost money."

"Watch it, Kuroudo," Ban said, frost tinting his voice.

Akabane remained firm. "If I must be denied my pleasure, so shall you likewise abstain."

"'Scuse me?"

A reproachful look. "Fair is fair, Ban-kun. We're in this together. No?"

Ban frowned. "We are, but remember the last time I tried to quit? That didn't end so well. Trust me, we're better off taking the small losses in the long run."

"But small battles are often what lead to defeat or victory in the larger war," Akabane pointed out. "And tobacco is getting expensive nowadays. Those yen will add up faster than you think, if you conserve them. Just look at how well Wan-san's profanity profits have done ever since he set up the collection jar in his shop."

"The swear jar has nothing to do with us," Ban grumbled, slashing a hand through the air. "Paul might nick the spare change out of everybody else's pockets, but he'll give up and retire that thing in about a week or two once he realizes he has no more chance of collecting extra penalties from us than he does of me paying off the tab in full."

Akabane sighed as he put down his pen and paper. "Midou-kun, sometimes you are completely hopeless. What am I ever going to do with you?"

Ban shrugged. "Same as you've been doing for a while now? Feed me, spoil me, clean up after me, love me? I can live with that." He flashed a cocky grin.

Akabane made a face. "Take me seriously, Ban-kun, or else I won't share the treat I had planned for you tonight," he scolded.

"Treat?" Ban sat up in his chair. "Now you're speaking my language."

Pleased that he had now secured the other's full attention, Akabane gave in to a quiet smile. "Well. I was saving it for the next time we were all slated to work together so that Ginji-kun and Himiko-san could see the show too. But I guess I could let you have a sneak preview...if you'll be nice to me..."

Ban's eagerness deflated as soon as he heard the self-satisfaction creeping into the other man's voice. He knew that tone by heart, and he already had a pretty good suspicion of what Akabane was about to reveal. But he'd walked right into that one – may as well see it through to the bloody end. And bloody it would surely be. "Dare I ask?"

It was Akabane's turn to smirk. "I have new toys. Ask me. Go on. Ask me what they are."

Ban carefully avoided letting exasperation leak into his sigh. "What are these paragons of fascination compelling you to show off all of a sudden?"

Akabane's grin blossomed and he flung out both fists from behind his back, splaying a double handful of bright blue spires in front of him like a geisha courting a client. "New scalpels!"

"And this is a good thing how?" Ban demanded.

Akabane put one cluster of knives away and propped a proud fist on his hip, admiring the other display as one would a cherished trophy. "Oh, but they're not just any scalpels, Ban-kun. These are hybrids!"

"Hybrids?"

"Regular scalpels have to be based from a single source material. That's how I used to do it. But with a bit of experimentation - " Akabane fluttered the knives with a soft clicking - "now I can mix and match my bases if I want!" His eyes shone with childlike glee not unlike Ginji's, when the former had discovered a new pizza parlour. "Isn't this exciting?"

Ban regarded the new weapons with a distaste as polite as he could muster. "I don't see any logical application in creating new hardware that's just going to get dirtied up like all the others. Explain your point, and I don't mean the ones on the business ends of those," he nodded towards the scalpels.

Akabane put them all away save for one, which he cradled in his palms. "Well, you always complain about Ginji-kun getting lost. A hybrid knife can be used as a tracking unit. The metal," he said, showing Ban the top part of the blade, "is sensitized to his electrical abilities. But the rubber half of it - " he traced the handle part - "grounds the magnetism so that the scalpel doesn't fly out of control. So when Ginji-kun gets lost on a mission – and you must admit, Ban-kun, he's been doing that an awful lot lately, the poor boy – when he's gone missing, we simply set the knife to attract to his presence, and follow it just like a compass needle."

Ban didn't get it. "This is different from your usual stalking ability how? Forget it, Akabane. I've seen one of your knives, I've seen 'em all."

"Hybrid knives can do other things too," Akabane insisted, unwilling to deny his work its moment of glory in the spotlight.

"I'm sure they write Js just as messy as the rest of them do," Ban said as he spun the chair around to confront the paperwork on his desk once more.

Akabane frowned. "I can show you. Just one demonstration - "

"No knives!" Ban said without turning around.

"Fine." Akabane sniffed as he retracted his last blade. "Rain on my parade. But don't forget, I can Bloody Rain on yours when you invent an outlandish strategy."

"My strategies aren't outlandish, they're brilliant, and they're brilliant because they work. As the Get Backers have proven time and again with our invincible success rate," Ban replied as he stuffed some brochures into a drawer. "I'm serious, Kuroudo. We need a magic bullet to pull this trip off. A scalpel isn't going to cut it." He peered warily over his shoulder. "No offense."

Akabane's expression had gradually thickened like a storm cloud's. He kept silent while Ban rifled through some more notes. Then he let loose with a burst of muted irritation.

"All right. You want a magic bullet? I'll give you an entire bloody submachine artillery!"

Ban whirled at that, expecting a barrage of physical attack, but was surprised to see only a flurry of black hair and white shirt leaving the room.

XX

If ever Akabane could be said to have any faults – besides the pointedly obvious – by his own admission, self-absorption might have earned a place on the list. He would not have denied that when he was set to a task, he sank himself into it with all the single-mindedness of a knife carving its way through solid matter. To one such as him, nothing less than full devotion was to be expected when taking on important objectives. How else could one hope to achieve the pinnacle of one's dreams? Half-hearted measures had no passion in them; therefore there could be no success without the engine of true desire.

So it was that Akabane took no notice of his mate's bewilderment. Ban was right, they needed an all-out effort if they were going to make their trip to Europe. And going all-out meant that sometimes, sacrifices would have to be made for the greater good.

Not that those sacrifices didn't sting just a little too sharply...!

Akabane put on his coat and hat and left the apartment, keeping a careful watch to make sure no one else was following. He took a route calculated to minimize the number of people who might serve as potential eavesdroppers, weaving through the streets and alleys as only a fog of shadows could. Finally, when he was certain he was alone and there were no other humans within listening distance, he took out his cell phone – but only after he'd first carefully inspected his garments for hanging threads that shouldn't be there. Ban had also warned him about that one.

Nothing amiss turned up on his clothes. Sighing quietly, part with relief, from knowing that he was in the clear, and part with resignation at the thought of what he was about to do, Akabane flipped open the phone and dialed a number he knew very well.

"Hello?"

"Don't sound so happy to hear my voice, Gouzou," Akabane said, feigning a calm he didn't feel.

"Oh, it's you." Maguruma's tone relaxed. "For a second I thought it was that jackass whose name starts with a V again."

Akabane frowned, not liking the sound of that. "Has he been bothering you now? What did he want?"

"Get this. He claims gas is too expensive to use up on the drive down to the client's safehouse, so the bastard wants me to transport the Crashers' go-cart in my truck's trailer."

"Well, after you finished laughing, you did tell him where to get off on that one, I assume," Akabane said.

There was a heavy sigh coupled with what sounded like a small groan. Then Maguruma said, "I did. Then I hung up. Not two minutes after that I get a call from the client. If I don't do it, Mr. Spoilsport walks. If he walks, the whole job gets yanked."

Scalpels prickled in Akabane's free hand; he nudged them back. "The bloody nerve! Who does he think he is, dictating the terms? He's not even the second-best transporter in town!"

"Gee, you sound like you almost care about my problems," Maguruma remarked with a hint of his usual joviality.

Akabane squeezed the phone in his hand just a little tighter. "Don't tell anyone," he muttered. "Gouzou, this call's about business. The...situation...we were discussing earlier... I..." His eyes pinched shut momentarily as he took a slow, long breath, trying to muster the words he needed.

Luckily Maguruma's swift intuition spared him the indignity of having to utter them. "I'll pick you up on my way to Himiko's." A pause, and then, "Thanks, Jackal. I need this one more than you know."

"You're welcome." Briefly Akabane wondered if it would be worth the trouble. A quick glance at the photograph of Ban that he kept in his wallet assured him it was. "The things I do for you..." he murmured with more affection than irritation.

"What?"

"Never mind. Oh, and Gouzou, one other thing. Do you have the client's contact information available?"

"Yeah. Hang on..."

Maguruma relayed a phone number, which Akabane jotted down on a small notepad he'd pulled from a coat pocket. They concluded their conversation and then Akabane scrolled to a new number in his phone's listings. A voice younger than Maguruma's answered this time, and Akabane asked that the number Gouzou had given him be traced to a specific location.

"I can do it, but it'll cost you," Makubex said matter-of-factly.

Akabane held back a hiss. "How much?"

"Money is just the means to an end. Payment is more suitable when it fits the purpose, don't you think?"

Despite Ban's previous commendation patience wasn't Akabane's strongest suit when he was intent on hunting. "Don't toy with me, Makubex-kun, I'm not in the mood for games today."

"Come on, Akabane-san. It's not my fault privacy controls have tightened lately. Besides, I learned it from you. 'Nothing in life comes for free.'"

He couldn't exactly dispute that. Akabane clutched a handful of half-emerging knives and said, "Fine. What do you want?"

"Hook me up to the gold mine on your clearance. Preferably when the night watch isn't as thick, I can get past more firewalls that way."

"Are you mad?" Quickly Akabane covered the phone with his hand and looked around after that outburst, making sure he was still alone. He lifted the phone again. "You presume an awful lot, Makubex-kun," he said in a much lower voice. "Perhaps you ought to be reminded of the wisdom of falling back to one's limits before those boundaries bite you back in a rather painful place. Have you forgotten so soon what happened the last time you crossed swords with a certain brains pack?"

"Am I speaking to the right person? Doctor Jackal, telling me to be cautious and not push my limits?"

There was a muted coughing noise. Makubex sounded like he was trying to keep from laughing out loud. It was truly a shame, Akabane decided, that scalpels could not penetrate through the phone lines. "Makubex-kun - "

"I can dream, can't I? You called me," the youth pointed out.

Makubex 2, Jackal 0. Akabane clenched the knives harder. "I'll see what I can do," he growled. "Now, will you trace that number I gave you? I need to know the address as soon as possible."

Having gained what he wanted, while amusing himself at the other's expense at the same time, Makubex readily acquiesced. "Give me five minutes and I'll have it."

He hung up without another word. While he waited for the boy to call back, Akabane pondered the various imaginative yet vindictive ways he could instill a set of proper manners into Makubex. He had yet to decide, he mused, whether it was just natural teenage attitude or the introduction of Ban's unruly cockiness that was responsible for the bad influence Makubex was exhibiting these days. Ginji would never have allowed such lip to develop if he were around.

Time dragged out before Akabane's phone rang again. He opened the call with the press of a button and, snippier than he'd intended, said, "That was more than five minutes, Makubex-kun."

"Cut me a break, Akabane-san. It was an unlisted number, really buried in there. Took me longer than I thought."

"But you do have it."

"Of course I have it," Makubex said, somewhat irritably. "What's it for?"

"Business," Akabane said frostily. "As in, it's rude to ask about what's not yours."

"It is if you're going to use me as an accessory," Makubex shot back, equally as cool. "I have my priorities too, Doctor Jackal. Do you want the address or not?"

Akabane wasn't sure whether to be impressed by or infuriated by the boy's candor. Only an equal would dare challenge him so. He could respect that kind of brass, coming as it was from a virtual prisoner of Mugenjou's recesses.

He throttled back his temper and the red scalpels threatening to rise, and spoke as calmly as he could. "I wish to meet with a potential client that a rival of mine is attempting to usurp. Will that set your mind at ease?"

"You could just get rid of the rival," Makubex said, suddenly unconcerned with the possibility of being linked as an accomplice.

Reminded of the opposition that he'd be dealing with this time, Akabane almost said, "Oh, believe me, I'd like nothing more than to," but then remembered who he was speaking to. It wouldn't do to permit interference from nuisance emotions. He closed his eyes and counted silently to ten before opening them again and replying. "There are complications involved."

"Midou Ban wouldn't like it, in other words. Does he know it's Varlou the Crasher?"

Akabane nearly dropped the phone at that. Fumbling with the device, he struggled to maintain a slipping composure. "How do you know about that?" he hissed.

"Everybody who's anybody knows it. The Party Crashers have an open hotline that's probably spread all the way to the southern coastline. It wasn't hard for word to get around Mugenjou," Makubex sounded surprised by Akabane's confusion. "Frankly, I don't blame you for being pissed. I've heard about this Varlou. Some of my lieutenants dealt with him in the old days. The guy's a dick."

"Language, please," Akabane said, not so startled by Makubex's revelations as to completely forgo polite observations.

"It's true."

"But off the record - " Akabane glanced around again; he was still safely obscured in the alleyway - "I completely agree with your assessment there."

"So why don't you take care of the problem once and for all?"

That boldness did shock Akabane. "Makubex-kun!"

"Like you've never thought about it," the boy said, sounding bored now. "I'm only asking because the Crashers are natural enemies to retrievers too. Credible sources have it that Varlou isn't on any better terms with the Get Backers than you or Mr. No-Brakes are. And I know for a fact that the Crashers have been checking out a job that your nearest and dearest has had his eye on for some time..."

"The gallery show," Akabane said, before he could stop himself.

"Bingo."

He had to count to twenty this time before saying anything. This conversation was doing nothing for his blood pressure – in more ways than one. Akabane made his scalpels recede and stay there, and turned his attention back to Makubex. "If I plan this right, that problem will be remedied to all parties' satisfaction; that is why I require your assistance. But never mind that for now. What else can you tell me about - " Akabane made a face only briefly before uttering the hated name - "Varlou?"

"Now that'll cost extra," Makubex said. But he must have sensed that Akabane's patience with their verbal jousting was fast running out, for right after that he gave out the address connected to the client's phone number.

Akabane jotted the notes down, his mind working through the next steps of his unfolding plot. "Thank you." He recognized the area as one he'd visited before. It would not be hard to find.

"And our deal," Makubex prompted.

"I told you. I'll see what I can do," Akabane repeated, calmer now that he had what he wanted. "And I still want any information you have on that pest."

"Drop by in a bit and I'll not only give you the full dossier, I can tell you what color underwear he wears too."

"I don't believe I'll require that extensive a knowledge, thank you," Akabane said.

"I can do it," Makubex insisted. "You know I can."

"Less talking, more hacking. Good-bye, Makubex-kun," Akabane said, and shut the phone before the boy could get in another parting shot.

He looked once more at the notes he'd written, memorizing the address, and put the pen and pad back into his pocket. Already he was feeling better now that he could proceed with his mission. Akabane was not one to be denied.

Roughly three hours later the door to a stately office opened and a man in his late sixties entered the room. Hijiri Muboshi rubbed his portly stomach and reflected on the delights of having one's own private kitchen on site. He liked to have his meals freshly prepared during hours of business. Then he could impress his peers and make deals at the same time.

His acid reflux kicked in, however, when he saw the man in black waiting for him in a chair at the front of his desk. Rationally Muboshi knew he shouldn't be so afraid. He had tried to hire this person. But all just the same, reputation went before, and this particular one was exactly why Muboshi had wanted to enlist him. He also knew that for him to appear without being summoned meant that one was in very dire straits indeed.

Muboshi pasted a smile on and faked a pleasantness he was nowhere close to feeling. "Doctor Jackal. What a nice surprise. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

Akabane rose and bowed likewise. "I do apologize for startling you, Muboshi-san. Only your secretary told me that you would return shortly, so I chose to wait for you. I would like to speak with you about the job you offered my colleagues Mr. No-Brakes and Lady Poison."

Muboshi looked a little taken aback as he carefully sidestepped his way to his desk, as though it were the safe haven in a game of tag. "Forgive me, Akabane-san. But I was made to understand that you were not interested in accepting my offer."

"I have reconsidered. If the offer is still open, I would like to apply," Akabane answered as they both sat down across from each other.

Muboshi was pleased, and more than a little relieved. So, it was merely a matter of second thoughts, then. "It is. I'm glad that you changed your mind. I prefer only the best for my undertakings."

"On two conditions," Akabane said, injecting some steel into his words.

The other man blinked, but didn't balk – yet. "Name them."

Akabane reached into his coat, ignoring the way the client impulsively cringed, and withdrew a sheet of paper, which he passed over the desk. "If you wish to retain my services, this is the fee I will expect of you in return."

Muboshi read the figure and blanched. "You're very serious about this, I must say...!"

Akabane met his stare without remorse. "I am the best, after all."

Muboshi gnawed on his lips for several moments before capitulating. "Very well. I will pay it. And the other condition?"

Akabane again reached into his coat and took out another piece of paper, handed it to him, and waited as the client read what was written. Then he said, "I can vouch from personal experience that those agents are of the highest caliber and the strictest of professionalism. If you desire something returned safely, they are the service without peer."

"I've heard of them, I think. You want me to hire them along with you?"

"Yes. And I want you to pay them exactly what you will be paying me. Each man apiece," Akabane said.

This time Muboshi grew belligerent. "Forgive me, Akabane-san, but have you any idea what I'm paying the agents I've already contracted? Much though I wish it were otherwise, I'm not made out of money!"

Akabane let him vent some more, and then said, in the same smooth calmness as before, "Where I go, they go, and where they go, I go. If you do not hire them I will withdraw from this assignment. Moreover, I shall speak with my colleagues Mr. No-Brakes and Lady Poison." He allowed an unpleasant smile to curl upon his mouth. "You and I understand, of course, that it will not be difficult for me to convince them that it would be in their best interests to likewise withdraw."

He stood up as if to leave.

"Wait!" Muboshi deliberated some more. It would be horridly expensive, but this was an important job, one critical to his empire's expansion, and if he could pull it off successfully, he would gain enormous prestige within his circles. He supposed that it was true, one got what one paid for, and if what the transporter said could be trusted...

"I understand your terms, Doctor Jackal. Very well. I will hire these 'Get Backers,' and pay them each the same fee I'm retaining you under. Will this be satisfactory, then?"

Akabane smiled again, his first real one that day. "Indeed. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I've provided your associate Mr. No-Brakes with the details of the trip. I trust that you will speak with him on that?"

"I shall."

They exchanged more formalities and then Akabane made to leave, pausing before he turned away. He looked back to the client. "Oh, lest I forget."

Muboshi tensed visibly, expecting another expensive demand.

Akabane reached one more time into his coat pocket and produced a final piece of reading material. Only this one was comprised of more than one sheet of paper, and bound within a slender folder. This he also gave to Muboshi.

"I would appreciate it very much if you would help to circulate that amongst your guests. Please feel free to read it yourself. It contains information which I'm sure you'll find quite fascinating, especially as it pertains to one of the agents whom you've hired. I thought that you might like to know."

Mission accomplished. For now. Not bothering to watch the puzzled look flit onto Muboshi's face, Akabane bid him a pleasant day and left the office.

XX

By the time Akabane had returned home he was finished formulating the plan that had been percolating in his mind, and after stopping at a local department store to pick up some items, briefed both Maguruma and Himiko over the phone as he invited them to dinner. All three of them agreed that the time had come to bring down their hated rivals for good. Akabane felt that he had done a reasonable job of arranging things so as to both complete the job to satisfaction and ensure maximum amusement – without incurring his beloved's or his beloved's partner's ire. The chess pieces were in place. Now he was ready to wage war with complete and utter mercilessness.

Flush with that satisfaction he entered their apartment with head held high, stopping only to deposit his boots by the door and his hat and coat on the wall pegs, before marching right up to Ban and plopping yet another folder into his lap. This one was considerably thicker than the one he had given the client Muboshi.

Ban had been stretched out on the couch reading a mystery novel. He blinked, then stared as the folder was unceremoniously dumped in front of his face. He looked up at Akabane with a mild frown and raised brow, the silent demand clear.

Akabane didn't waver. "May I present to you your magic silver bullet."

Ban set his book aside and poked at the folder. "What's this? It's obviously not food."

"Dinner shall be provided shortly. It's pizza night."

Ban brightened at that. "I like the way you think." His face clouded briefly as he remembered who he was dealing with. "Sometimes," he amended.

"I asked Himiko-san and Maguruma to come over," Akabane said while he placed a bag of groceries on the counter and began to set the table. "You'll want to give Ginji-kun a call and let him know. This concerns him too."

"Feeling sociable tonight, are we? What's the occasion?"

"We're going to discuss a matter of grave importance." Akabane said, pausing while he debated whether or not to use the good wine. "In the meantime, I suggest you study the contents of that folder. Because that," he nodded at the compilation, "is going to be our next assignment." He decided that the evening warranted good drinks after all, and set out glasses.

Ban blinked again and his frown returned some. "You got us a job? Together?"

Akabane crossed his arms against his chest and came to stand before him. "It's a client that Maguruma and I have dealt with before. He's solid. Pays very well, I assure you. We – that is, Maguruma, Himiko-san and myself – are contracted to make a transport for him next Tuesday. The only problem is that a rival gang of transporters will be waiting to steal the delivery from us."

"That's not a problem." Ban snorted. "Not for you, anyway."

"Oh, but it is, you see! The Party Crashers have been a thorn in our sides for quite some time now. Somehow they always manage to ruin our jobs in one way or another – they steal the item, or create unpleasant delays for us. And forget about having any fun," Akabane sniffed. "They don't play well with others."

"Neither do you," Ban pointed out.

Akabane just gave him a look.

Ban shrugged and glanced at the folder. "Party Crashers, huh? That sounds familiar. Aren't they the guys who helped crack into a laboratory downtown a couple years ago and made off with a bunch of research documents?"

"Close. That was their ringleader, a detestable man named Varlou." Akabane felt like spitting just to rid his mouth of the sour taste he got every time he was forced to speak that name, but such would never do, so he settled for thinning his lips in displeasure. "He's the enemy we will have to defeat in order to see our Europe money. Remember the IL job we both worked? Only this time he's the Judas."

He reached down and tapped the folder he'd given Ban. "But you and I are going to see to it that he doesn't get his piece of flesh that he's expecting. We're going to stick it to him and his vultures once and for all. Emphasis on the sticking part, if I have anything to say about it," Akabane added with undisguised malice.

Ban digested this with a slow nod. "Just remember, though. No dead bodies. We agreed on that," he said, letting his voice slip just a notch into warning territory.

To his surprise Akabane gave a most ungentlemanly snicker of derision. "Corpses? Killing him is too good of a punishment for that miserable man! Oh no, Ban-kun." Purple eyes glittered. "What I have in mind is death of a more fitting nature. By the time Varlou realizes he won't be pulling one over on us he'll wish I'd granted him a J in the back."

Ban had been watching him with a mostly neutral expression. Now his face shadowed a bit as he remembered just how creatively vindictive Akabane could be if he felt slighted. "It's not like you to nurse grudges. Spill it, Jackal. What's the bad blood between you and this Varlou that'd get you so worked up over a job you normally couldn't give a fat rat's fart about?"

Akabane told him about the missing scalpel. Like Kazuki earlier, Ban wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or groan in exasperation over the transporter's true motives. But he knew that an agitated Akabane was also a sensitive Akabane, and one very likely to express his discontent with someone else's reaction in the sharpest possible terms. He made sure to keep a straight face throughout the tale.

"I thought that your weapons couldn't be taken from you by outside forces," Ban said, once Akabane was done sharing his story. "Besides Ginji's electromagnet, that is."

"Normally, they can't," Akabane said. "But Varlou did something to it that keeps me from summoning it back. Himiko-san suspects magic of a sort. Truthfully, I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. The Party Crashers are a walking curse as far as I'm concerned."

"Is that why you tagged me to join you? You want me to get back your knife?" Ban said, a slight grin poking alongside his face.

"Actually, no. Your function on this assignment lies elsewhere, as you'll see when you read the itinerary in the folder. But if you should run across my scalpel during the trip I would be most grateful to you for returning it to me," Akabane said, perking up momentarily.

Ban made a noise that was part sigh and part chuckle. Only his Akabane. "I'll keep it in mind," he agreed.

"Thank you."

"Just so you know, recovery's not cheap. Especially if I have to get dirty. A hospital bill would set us back on our Europe funds by another year."

Akabane's response to that was a lifted eyebrow. "Why is it that everyone seems to be making preposterous requests of me today?" he grumbled.

"Huh?"

Akabane sighed. "Never mind. Don't worry, you'll be paid for your efforts." He nodded toward the unopened folder still in Ban's lap. "Besides the necessary mission information, it contains everything you'll need to know about the opposition, especially Varlou. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't permit him to defeat you. Not that he ever could," he added, with another glance to the packet. "Know thy enemy."

"All the better to poke holes in thy enemy with thy surgical quills," Ban said wryly. "You don't have to get all Sun Tzu on me."

"Don't I?"

Akabane stooped over him and put his hands on Ban's thighs, fixing him in the eye as his voice turned a steely quiet. "I want to go to Europe. I want to see Germany with you. I want to visit ancient battlegrounds and look at ageless works of art. I want to take too many pictures and buy too many postcards and eat foreign delicacies and enjoy myself to the fullest with you, and do everything that tourists do. We have worked too long and hard for this to let it slip away from our grasp so easily. Ban-kun, if Varlou louses this up, so help me holy Christ Jesus Almighty I'll forgo scalpels and just rip him to pieces with my bare fingers!"

Ban stared at him for a long time after the last ferocious hiss had petered out. "You're serious about this one."

"However did you guess?" Akabane said coolly as he rose.

"You almost dropped an f-bomb in there. I could tell. From your voice." Ban held up his fingers in a pinching motion. "You were this close to firing it off. This Varlou must really be something if he gets you that riled!" He looked downright impressed.

Akabane's nose lifted a little. "Nonsense. The only thing he is, to use your phrasing, is a royal pain in the posterior."

"Come on, if you're going to swear, at least do it right." Ban turned his attention to the folder and began leafing through it. He needed only a minute to scan the mission's specifics and get the basic overview; he would go over it closer after he'd read the opposition's backgrounds. He looked up at Akabane in surprise after noticing one line of print in particular. "You're retaining me and Ginji?"

"But of course. You are the Get Backers, after all," Akabane said. "The 'S' means that you do not work alone, hmm?"

"Not bad, Jackal," Ban mused. Having Ginji on hand would not only be useful to him, it would also serve as a deterrent to any unsanctioned bloodletting. He continued reading the compiled information on the Party Crashers. "Shah-tzi Feng – I recognize that one. That clown pal of Ginji's with the whip told us a story once about a rumor he'd heard of her having to go into exile after botching a job for one of the Chinese triads. Looks like it wasn't just a rumor," he said, his eyes running along a block of text. "Where'd you get all this stuff, anyway?"

"From Makubex-kun," Akabane replied in a complacent tone as he headed into the kitchen.

Ban shook his head as he went back to reading. "Kid's gonna get his balls busted one of these days, nosing into the wrong portfolio..." He froze as he turned the page leading into the ringleader's history and confronted an eight-by-ten photograph leering up at him. "Holy shit."

Akabane came back into the room, alerted not by the profanity itself but the emotion behind it. "What's wrong?"

Ban ripped the picture out of its lineup and held it up. "This is the infamous Varlou? The one you're lusting so badly to scribble Js on?"

"The very same," Akabane said. His eyes widened suddenly and he couldn't keep the disbelief from leeching through his voice. "You know him?"

"Oh, this is precious!" Ban laughed with ripened bitterness. "I know him, all right. Except he was working under a different name when I met him. Called himself 'Yami Doko.' Pretentious ass could give obnoxious lessons to the monkey trainer!"

"Not terribly surprising," Akabane said. "He's known for changing aliases frequently. He has to, seeing as how anyone and everyone he's ever aggravated would like his head on a pike. Among other body parts."

"More like backstabber than kite in the darkness, if you ask me," Ban said darkly. "That cowardly puke-stain stiffed us Get Backers out of eighty thousand yen on a past job!" He slammed the offending picture onto the coffee table and stood up, sending the rest of the folder flopping onto the floor, papers scattering. "I can't believe this. You waltz in here and drop the perfect storm right into my lap. You're telling me I can get both vacation money and my payback in one shot?"

"That is the plan - " Akabane started to say, before he found himself swept up in serpentine coils and flung around the room in circles. "Midou-kun!"

"Goddamn, Akabane, you're a bloody genius!" Ban laughed, this time with a relish bordering on dementia. "I can already taste the _schadenfreude_!"

"Well, I do try," Akabane said modestly, squirming awkwardly in Ban's clutches while doing his best to smooth his mussed hair back into a semblance of order.

Ban finally calmed down and let go of Akabane. He rubbed his hands together, smacking his lips. "This is gonna be good. We're gonna have fun with this." He snapped his fingers. "When's our dinner coming, _liebe?_ Perfidy requires a full stomach to be executed at its finest."

"I couldn't agree more," Akabane said, devilish delight suffusing his face. "Especially with execution."

Ban pointed at him. "Down, Jackal. I'm gonna grab Ginji. You finish setting up there." He pumped a fist in the air and danced off toward the door. "The Get Backers will have their glory!"

"Don't forget us transporters, too," Akabane called out after him.

He watched his lover head out of the apartment with a bemused smile, feeling an odd but pleasant swell in his chest that was akin to pride. As he knelt and pulled together the scattered papers detailing their adversaries' misdeeds, Akabane pondered this strange sense of excitement and purpose that now propelled him into destiny's crossroads. His hand landed on the picture of Enemy Number One, and he studied Varlou's white-blond smugness for several minutes.

Ban was right. They would have fun. A lot of it.

Akabane smiled.

_I'm so good I even amaze myself sometimes. _

XX

TBC


	51. Going For The Gold part 5

Himiko was the first to arrive, followed shortly by Maguruma and two children, a boy and a girl. "Hope you don't mind," Gouzou explained to Ban. "Wife's working the evening shift at the restaurant and our usual sitter's out with a cold."

"Probably the same thing that's been kicking down everybody between Honshu and Okinawa lately." Ban gave the grinning kids a wary eye. "They're housebroken, aren't they?"

"Midou-kun," Akabane scolded as he came to greet their guests. "Don't be silly, Gouzou. There's plenty of room for the little ones to play while we adults have our meeting." He smiled at the children. "There will be pizza for dinner."

"You break it, you bought it," Ban called out after the jubilant children as they squealed and obediently scampered into the living room at Maguruma's command.

"Relax. I've thought of everything," Akabane said, patting his shoulder. "While you were speaking with Ginji-kun, I was calling Mama. She and Father are in town."

"Again?"

"I think they may be house-hunting," Akabane said, looking pleased. "Anyway, Mama is coming over. She can watch Maguruma's children while we talk."

"Why does this not reassure me?" Ban wondered aloud as another knock came on the door.

He went to answer it and found Paul balancing a stack of pizza boxes in his arms. "Well, well. Look what the Jackal dragged in."

"Don't complain. He pays for his food," Paul pointedly reminded as he entered and set the boxes onto the table.

While Akabane paid Paul, Ban went to give Himiko a little friendly grief. "You know we're working together on this one, right? Let me show you how a real pro does it!"

"Thanks, but I like completing my assignments right the first time," she shot back, a wicked gleam in her eye. "The real measure of a pro is how often she or he can get paid!"

"Why you little runt - !"

They called a temporary truce in their roughhousing when Maguruma's daughter abruptly came running back into the kitchen, scowl firmly in place. She made a beeline for Akabane and thrust a doll up at him.

"Uncle Jack-Jack! Tommy messed up my doll! He stole her head and switched it with one of his toys!"

Akabane took the proffered plaything and sat down on a chair to look at it. The doll was a typical staple of girlhood, having the requisite feminine features and fancy wardrobe, but the head – a grotesque goblin-like pudge - was completely unsuited for its torso.

"I say, that was rude of him, wasn't it?" Akabane patted the girl's cheek. "Don't worry. I'll fix your dolly right up for you."

A scalpel sprung forth, and he lopped off the offending appendage in one clean swipe. He handed the toy back to its owner.

"There you go. Good as new."

The girl beamed up at him. "Thanks, Uncle Jack-Jack. You're the best!"

"You're very welcome, sweetheart," a smiling Akabane told her before she darted off.

Silence settled over the kitchen. The transporter blinked at the others. "What?"

Ginji put down his handful of pilfered pizza and stared at Ban. "Ban-chan, promise me that you and Akabane-san will never, ever have kids of your own."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem there, Gin," Ban said, looking equally as disturbed by the prospect.

The last guest heard him as she was ushered inside by Himiko. "I fix problem for you," Akane Akabane said on her way through the kitchen.

"_No!"_ Ban and Akabane nearly shouted at the same time, garnering them a startled look from Ginji. "Mama...likes to put...things...in drinks. Food too, sometimes," Akabane said with a slightly pained expression.

Ginji was no stranger to magic. His face went milk-white. "She can do that?" he gasped.

"Oh yeah," Ban confirmed.

Akabane hastened to put Ginji at ease. "Oh, don't worry, Ginji-kun. Mama would never curse you. She likes you."

"But all the same, if Akane ever asks you if you want some of her famous margarita mix, do yourself a favor. Just say no!" Ban advised.

"Yes," Akabane agreed. "It's for your own good, Ginji-kun."

"There is always adoption!" Akane called out from beyond the living room.

"Akane, we've been over this before. This - " Ban grabbed a yowling Medusa, who had crept up onto the table, about to snag an olive off of his pizza, and hoisted her into the air - "is the closest you're getting to hearing the patter of tiny feet in our household!"

He released the struggling cat, ignoring Akane's mutterings about uncooperative sons-in-law, and fixed Akabane with a hairy eyeball. "'Uncle Jack-Jack'?"

Akabane shrugged.

"You didn't know? He's Maguruma's children's honorary godfather," Himiko told Ban.

"It's what she's always called me since she was two." Akabane mused with a thoughtful smile. "You know, her first word was 'Jackal.' Poor Gouzou was fit to be tied!"

"You don't say," a sickly-looking Ban mumbled as he tottered backwards.

At length everyone was settled in. Akane grudgingly deferred to her son's authority after making sure that everyone in attendance was being properly cared for - "Gin-ji too skinny. Partner Ban needs to feed him more, more!" - and accorded her due recognition - "Himiko-child, you must call more, _aa_?" When her presence had been received satisfactorily she shepherded Maguruma's kids into the other room with an offering of fresh pizza and a DVD of cartoons provided by their father.

Paul served the adults more helpings of pizza while Akabane poured wine. Once everyone's plates were filled and seats taken at the table, Akabane got up and tapped a scalpel's flat end against his glass in successive chimes.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming on such short notice. This coalition meeting of transporters and retrievers shall now officially come to order."

"Whatever you do, take him seriously," Ban muttered to Paul. "He pokes people when he's annoyed, and I don't mean with just a finger!"

"I would greatly appreciate it," Akabane said with a sharper tone directed at him, "if everyone would save any interruptions until after the presentation. Now, then," he said, his voice warming into chipper briskness. "We're all familiar with each other's areas of expertise, so there's no need for introductions on that part. Suffice formalities to say that we – that is, Himiko-san, Maguruma-san, and myself - " Akabane picked up a marker and wrote down three initials on a large blank pad of paper he'd set up on an easel at the table's head - "have been contracted by a client to make a delivery for him this coming Tuesday."

Everyone looked at the paper, where H.A.M. stood out in bold red writing. Ginji suddenly sputtered into a series of muted giggles. "Ban-chan, that spells - "

"Shut up!" Ban hissed, jabbing him in the side with an elbow. He was doing his own best not to laugh at the unintentional acronym, but he'd seen the way Akabane's eyes narrowed in their direction. He slapped a firm polite smile on his quivering lips in an attempt to convince the transporter that they were all paying proper attention.

It must have worked, or else Akabane was more concerned with his mission, for he continued. "Again, those of us directly involved with the transport portion of this assignment are already aware of the details; therefore, I'll come to the point of tonight's assembly." He paused dramatically. "We have a problem. Three problems, actually. The Party Crashers."

He flipped the sheet of paper to reveal three eight-by-ten photographs of the offending rivals. Mug shots, as it were, taped to the pad, each one showing a different agent.

"Dirtbags," Maguruma grumbled.

"Parasites," Himiko hissed.

Akabane favored them with a tolerant nod; evidently his fellow agents' transgressions were acceptable. He lifted his gaze to Ginji when a hand shot up at the back of the table. "Yes?"

"I know that blond guy, Akabane-san. Ban-chan and I ran into him once before when he screwed up a job for us. That's Yami Doko!"

"That's the guy I was telling you about earlier," Ban groaned, landing a light punch off of his shoulder. "Yami Doko's just his handle, it's not his real name."

"Midou-kun is correct," Akabane said, taking back control of the discussion. "His real name is Varlou, which is also quite likely a cover. And ruining jobs is what he does. The Get Backers are, I'm sorry to say, neither the first nor last opponents whose encounters these rogues have thoroughly despoiled." He rapped a scalpel smartly on the pad's surface. "That is going to change once and for all. I've taken out insurance."

At that, Ban and Ginji exchanged knowing glances, the two retrievers unable to contain their own excitement and pride.

"You've come up with a new attack? You know how sneaky Varlou is about avoiding direct confrontation with you," Maguruma said.

"Better than that!" Purple eyes flashed. "In the past, we would carry out our delivery, only to have it mucked beyond salvation when the Party Crashers stuck their noses into our business. This job might also seem doomed, since the client, unaware of our rivalry, made the fatal error of contracting the Crashers alongside our group to make the transport." Akabane's eyes narrowed. "But I've figured out a way to turn this to our advantage, and make Varlou's gang choke in the stench of their abject failure."

"Sabotage!" Ginji burst out, heedless of the penalty for speaking out of turn.

Akabane didn't seem to take offense this time. If anything, he appeared delighted by the focus granted to his plans. His face lit up as he raised a knife in one hand. "Precisely, Ginji-kun!"

He used his blade to flip over the next sheet of paper, a map, on the easel. "There is only one exit on the route that we'll be taking to the dropoff point, and that is where our secret weapon will be waiting." Now Akabane was getting wound up, the beginnings of a feral grin blossoming across his lips. "The Crashers will have to come this way in order to escape once they've nicked our objective. When they do - " he strolled around the side of the table and leaned over Ban and Ginji, draping his arms around their shoulders - "the greatest recovery team in all the country - "

"The world," Ban put in.

" - will be waiting to intercept them and take back the delivery!"

There was a moment of quiet while the group digested this. Maguruma said, "Strength in numbers. It's got potential."

"I don't know." Himiko frowned. "Are you sure about this, Akabane?"

"I'm hurt, little sis!" Ban faked a look of despair. "You're saying you don't believe that the two greatest agents with the hundred-percent success rate can pull off the job of the century?"

She made a face at him. "I'm saying that I don't trust the two biggest oafs in the business not to cost us a fair bit of dough!"

Paul spoke up. "She's got a point, Dr. Jackal. Ban and Ginji might manage the actual retrieval well enough, but they have zero luck when it comes to appeasing the money gods."

"Or the food gods, apparently," Ban muttered, shooting him a dirty glare.

"How many times must I drill it into your thick heads!" Akabane suddenly screeched, and everybody immediately cringed in their seats as if they expected him to Bloody Rain down with that statement in the literal sense. "I don't care about money. This isn't even about completing the job. This is about honor! This is about keeping faithful to one's true dream! This is about - "

"R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me," Ginji burbled through a mouthful of pizza.

"No more wine for you, bub!" Ban smacked him on the back of his head. It did nothing to stop Ginji from wolfing down the last of his food.

"No, Ginji-kun is right!" Akabane's eyes simmered with purple fire. "This is about respect. For too long Varlou has taunted us with the possibility of battle, all the while besmirching our good reputations. Too often has he run off like a rat with his tail between his legs, and I'm left in the dust of a fight that never was, when I was promised by the client a worthwhile investment of time. And time is the only real wealth that anyone ever has. It is inherent that each of us should spend that currency doing exactly as we wish, and what I wish is to shove my sword straight down Varlou's insufferable throat, quarter him in pieces and spit-roast his blood-soaked entrails on an open barbecue!"

No one dared breathe a word in that blazing wake. Ginji had retreated underneath the table, a puddle of tare shaking next to Ban's legs. He'd seen the red knives studding Akabane's fists and was not so tipsy as to have forgotten what that meant. Even Akane, peering suspiciously over from the living room area, was raising her brows at the commotion emanating from the kitchen.

Her ever-mercurial offspring took a moment to compose himself, brushing back several locks of hair trailing along the side of his face as he slowly paced back to his easel. "However," Akabane went on, calmer smile resurfacing, his voice falling back to a more conversational level as the scalpels faded to blue and receded, "Midou-kun has graciously taken his time to show me, shall we say, a neater - yet still entertaining - approach to dilemmas such as the one we now face."

He flicked out a knife again and turned a page on the pad, showing a closeup section from the map they'd previously viewed. "This spot here is where the Get Backers' vehicle will be poised, waiting for our signal. As soon as the Crashers double-cross us, we'll notify them of impending arrival. Once the retrievers have safely obtained the item, they'll meet up with Maguruma's truck, which will follow this path - " here Akabane put away his knife and picked up the marker again, tracing an outline over the map - "over here, thus joining together both forces."

"There's no road marked there," Ban complained.

Maguruma chuckled at him. "Roads are for amateurs. Where I'll be driving, I won't need pavement!"

"You need help," Ban told him.

"Question." Paul waved a hand. "Why am I here? Besides the fact that I fed everyone tonight."

"Ah, yes." Akabane recapped his marker and put it on the table, picking up a fat folder. He handed it to the shopkeeper. "You have a small but very vital role to play, Wan-san. Your mission is to circulate that amidst your sources in the information underworld. I believe the Threadmaster Kazuki would be an excellent person to start with."

Paul gingerly thumbed the file as though it might possess a temperament similar to its dispatcher and grow teeth to nip at him. "I can do that. What's in it?"

"You just broke Rule Number One," Himiko said to him.

"What's Rule Number One?"

Himiko and Maguruma spoke together. "Don't question the package."

Paul winced. "Good advice."

"Have pity on the poor man, he's doing us all a favor," Akabane counseled them. "What you hold in your hands, Wan-san, is nothing less than Varlou's biography. In fact, all of the Crashers' histories are detailed in it, from birth to present day." Feline smugness curled across his face. "Every dirty deed he's ever done. Every ridiculous alias he's ever used. Weapons and their weaknesses. His hiding places, his home addresses, his bank accounts - "

"The color of his underwear too, I see," Paul said, leafing through the files.

Akabane closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm really going to have to have a word with Makubex-kun," he murmured, putting a hand to his forehead.

"Those renegade jerks will never work in this town again," Maguruma said, his face sparking excitement for the first time as he caught on to the reason for Paul's involvement. "The Party Crashers won't be able to make a move anywhere without having to watch their backs!"

Himiko leaned over Paul's shoulder, nudging the others aside, as he pulled out piece after piece of data gold. "Look! There's photographs! Of Varlou! No one's ever gotten a clean record of him, and he brags about his ability to operate in stealth!"

"Head shots, full body profiles – I know guys who would sell their souls to have this information!" Maguruma said, likewise moving from his seat to crowd Paul's view.

"There are more in color, too," Akabane added with a helpful smirk. "I like to call it, 'death by character assassination.'"

Himiko stared at him. "I want a copy of this!"

He chuckled, that familiar slyness that made people's hairs stand on edge. "I anticipated a high consumer demand for this particular novel. I'm sure it will be a bestseller once word of it reaches the streets," he said, handing her and Maguruma each their own treasure trove of Party Crasher trivia.

"Oh, this." Himiko's eyes were wide with an eerie shine as she grabbed onto her folder and started paging through it with greedy delight. "This is why I work with you, Akabane. Your meticulous attention to detail."

"We need to talk," Ban growled at her, not liking the grin spreading across her face.

"Please, Ban-kun," Akabane said. "There's plenty of – what was it you called it earlier? _Scheiss_?"

"No, that means 'shit,'" Ginji said. "Pardon my French, Akabane-san."

"_Schadenfreude,"_ Ban corrected. "That's German for enjoyment of other people's misfortunes."

"Yes. That. Plenty of Party Crasher misery to share around," Akabane said happily. "Perhaps you could bottle it and turn it into a new poison perfume, Himiko-san. You could call it 'Musk of the Banished.'"

She thought it over. "Or I could just add the essence to my Red Death scent, make it all the more poisonous."

"'Musk of the Banished' sounds better," Akabane said. "It still retains the death implication but it's ever so sweeter in the total humiliation it implies as well."

Ban threw up his hands. "You all need professional help."

XX

Professional help came sooner than expected for both retriever and transporter, but not necessarily in the manner that each would have anticipated. Particularly for Akabane, whose temperament was fast ratcheting into edgier territory due to the upcoming revenge, and not made any easier by his obligations to Makubex. Babylon City wasn't known for its generosity, let alone its understanding.

Knives were quicker to fly than usual, as one unlucky fellow found out while trying to evade Mr. No-Brakes' trail. The transporters, like their retriever brethren, weren't resting idle while waiting for the big job, and at Akabane's insistence kept busy by completing smaller jobs. Except that the suspect trying to hide the object from their notice wasn't cooperating, and after a long chase through inclement weather and an even longer game of cat and mouse through the alleys, it fell to Maguruma to squeeze the necessary details out of him.

By his own admission it wasn't a task Gouzou delighted in. His preferred method of questioning troublemakers involved a tire iron and some road spikes, both of which certainly would have subdued the still-struggling man but not succeeded in garnering the desired location – it was rather difficult to pronounce names correctly with a mouthful of broken teeth, after all. Also self-admittedly, Maguruma had a temper when pushed. The cleaning bills for the mess coating his truck and its interior were going to be substantial.

Still, he'd seen the warning shine in his dark-clad partner's eyes when a very soggy and bedraggled Akabane joined him in the alley – Jackal must have trudged through a football field's worth of mud, in his estimation – and figured that it would be best if he, Gouzou, undertook the information-gathering portion of their job this time.

"Look, man. You're tired. We're tired. Everybody just wants to go home, get a hot shower and a beer." Maguruma scowled at the twitching perp who'd given them the runaround tonight. "Just hand over the deposit box key, so we can all go our ways and be done with it."

"Give up a fortune to that rat-bag Tomosuki? Yeah, I know he hired you couriers. Screw it. I'm going my own way, without you," sneered the man.

He charged Maguruma, who caught the brunt of it easily with his own bulk. But the man planned it that way, and when Gouzou tried to put him in a hold, he shrank downwards and slammed a kite-attack squarely into his gut. A wheezing Maguruma lost his grip on the quarry and doubled over in pain, while his attacker scrambled toward the nearest concealing shadow.

That shadow disengaged itself from the rest of the darkness, thunder burning in its lavender depths. Akabane liked preaching the virtues of patience to others but wasn't so good at practicing such himself, even less so during stressful times. He was cold, wet, muddy, and in no mood to prolong the chase.

"He said...give us...the damned box key!"

It was tough to tell who was more shocked by the explosion of scalpels that rent the night air. Being something of a betting man, Maguruma decided that it was Akabane himself who was the most startled by a bloody rain gone horribly awry. Judging by the frozen open-mouthed expression, Gouzou guessed that Jackal had only meant to knock some sense into the guy's head, rather than knocking his head clean off.

A blanched Akabane cautiously ventured near the mess. His eyes were wide and he cupped a mud-stained gloved hand over his mouth. "Is he dead?" he whispered.

Maguruma winced as he straightened up from the blow he'd taken, and limped over to have a look at what was left. "Well, he's not sound asleep, that's for sure."

"Oh my."

The smell made them both gag, but in the interest of mission satisfaction one last chore remained to be done. A flicker of gold appeared as Maguruma carefully picked his way through singed clothing. "We got the key, at least..." He pinched it between his fingers and quickly dropped it into a pocket of his pullover; it was still piping hot from where the bladed fireball had struck. "What's with the bloody barbecue now?"

"I don't know where that came from." Akabane had gone from white to ashen, contemplating the ramifications of having stepped beyond acceptable boundaries that he and his lover had agreed upon. "I don't know what went wrong...I tried to use the Sagittarius attack, but I couldn't control it..." Consternation darkened his gaze from two equally disturbing thoughts, the prospect of incurring Ban's displeasure and having inexplicably slipped his own bonds of control. "Don't tell Midou-kun. Please?" Before Maguruma could say anything, Akabane added in a tremulous pitch, "I want to be the one to break it to him."

Gouzou nodded. "Let's finish this thing up and get out of here before - " He caught himself before he said, "anyone else blows up," and managed to end with, " - before it gets much later."

He headed for the truck, parked at the entrance to the side street nearby, but even over the suction of booted feet pulling through mud and water he still heard Akabane's bitter self-castigation.

"It's too late for me already..."

XX

Ban and Ginji were hashing out their strategy for their part of the grand plan when Akabane got home. Ginji was too wound up over the excitement of a prospective payoff and revenge wrapped up in one, and so paid little heed to the hushed sounds of an apartment door opening. But Ban had peered out the window moments earlier and seen a weary, tail-tucked Jackal heading into the building, and he was ready.

"All right, Ginji, we've got the basics set. Let's call it a night and tomorrow we'll go hit up Paul for assistance. I think he's still got that set of night-vision specs we used for Hevn's spy mission..."

"Sounds good to me, Ban-chan. This is gonna be fun!"

As he departed for his own pasture across the hall Ginji's grin was a thousand and a half watts; when given a purpose he was committed to, his enthusiasm for it bulldozed anything else on the horizon. Thus was Ban able to both distract him and allow Akabane a private entrance for dignity's sake, a fact which the latter was quietly grateful for as he shed his muddied outer garments and came to join Ban on the couch.

A truly penitent Jackal was a sight only a handful of people could claim to have glimpsed. Ban said nothing while he lit a fresh cigarette, knowing that what needed to be said would come in good time, and he'd get more of the full story if he let Akabane set the pace.

It didn't take long. Akabane was hunched over, damp hair hanging in his face, but Ban could still see the anxiety clouding the other man's eyes into a subdued purple-grey. He started, in hesitant spurts, to talk, the soft voice lacking its usual smooth undercurrent. Akabane seemed as confused as he was upset, and by the time he'd confessed his sin, Ban had a good idea of where to take the rest of it.

"I can feel your presence," he said now as he put out his cigarette stub and inched closer to Akabane, not missing the slight flinch his movement caused in his lover. "In here." Ban patted his chest. "And here." He gestured to his head. "In a sense, you're always with me, even if you're not physically present. It's been like that for some time now. And we've been around each other long enough that I can always tell when you're going for the kill."

He paused, watching the way that Akabane's body tensed, ever so slightly. He saw fresh fear swell in fading lilac, and reached out to take Akabane's hand – ungloved – in his own.

"I know you didn't mean to kill him, Kuroudo. I know it was an accident."

Akabane wilted almost immediately. His head bowed almost to his knees as he slumped over on his elbows, eyes falling closed as he uttered a long sigh. "I swear it was an accident. I don't know what happened. Truly, I don't." He rose a little and looked up at Ban, face drawn into a haggard humanity. "I summoned my power as normal, but when it released..." He stopped talking and let his head hang again, his morose gaze coming to rest upon the floor. "I've never had that happen to me before." In a lower voice, he murmured, "Inexcusable."

Ban suspected that he was referring more to the loss of self-control than to its macabre results, but he was more interested in preventing future mishaps than picking pointless battles. "You've never had an attack backfire on you before?"

"Oh no, never - " Akabane started to shake his head, but thought better of it as a scrap of memory pushed itself to the forefront of his focus. "Well, not since I first became aware of my power..." He shot a rather guilty look at Ban. "There was a lot of trial and error in those days, you see..."

"I thought it might be something like that." Ban leaned down and reached underneath the couch. When he straightened up a moment later, he had in his hand a small rectangular box.

"That's why I invested in this."

Ban handed the box to Akabane, who took it at his gentle nudge. Having expected a rebuke instead of a gift the transporter's puzzlement flitted over his face in a curtain of doubt. But he peeled away the red wrapping paper and opened the box at his beloved's nod of encouragement, and when he saw the contents nestled in the white tissue paper within he was both surprised and pleased.

"Why, thank you, Ban-kun! You didn't have to get me new gloves. I already have a pair."

"Not like these." Ban smiled at him. "Go ahead, try 'em on."

Akabane ran his fingers over the set of black gloves, admiring their craftsmanship. They obviously hadn't come cheap, and he would have affectionately scolded Ban for spending the money if it weren't for the spirit in which they had been presented. He took one out of the box and slipped it on. It was a perfect fit, and Akabane knew without having to be told that Ban must have swiped one of his regular gloves for the tailor to use as a model.

"I like them very much, Ban-kun." He smiled at Ban, and leaned over to press his lips against the other's. "Thank you."

Ban's eyes gleamed. "You're welcome. Give me a scalpel, now."

"Pardon?"

"Whip one out. Show it to me."

Akabane's brow squiggled at this sudden upending of atmosphere, but he obligingly lifted his hand. He was to be disappointed, however, when no shiny blue spire obeyed his summons.

Frowning, Akabane tried again. No scalpel. He folded over his fingers as if preparing to throw a fist, and called once more. Still, the absence of knives endured.

"Pure genius on my part, if I do say so myself," Ban said after Akabane tried and failed to conjure scalpels for the fourth time. "I thought, since this upcoming mission's so important to the both of us, it'd be better to have a failsafe in place..."

Akabane looked at him, his face stuck between a frown and confusion. "But how?" He wiggled his fingers, watching the way the light caressed them in the black sheathings.

"You have to ask? Magic," Ban pronounced with a snap of his own fingers. He gestured to the box still containing the glove's mate. "Cost me my whole pizza quota for the month and a few TMI stories from Maria, but it was worth it." He grinned. "Told you I have a good streak of witch blood in my veins."

"You created these." Eyes slightly widening in delight, Akabane put the second glove on and admired his hands. "I can feel the power bound to me, yet it's as if it lies dormant, heedless of my will."

"Pretty cool, huh?"

Akabane turned his hands this way and that, smiling thoughtfully as he pictured himself wearing the new gloves to work. Then he frowned momentarily. "I don't have to wear them all the time, do I?"

Ban chuckled and shook his head. "Though the idea was tempting, believe me. No, they're supposed to help you out a little. There's a barrier spell there that calms any flesh-sourced power."

"How clever." Akabane took off the gloves and placed them back in their box, stroking their material. Another small frown reclaimed his features, and he looked up at Ban with fresh wariness. "Did you give me these because you were worried about the mission...or because you were worried about me?"

It was a fair question, Ban decided. "Both," he said after a few minutes. "Without this money, we can't go on our trip. But even if we could go, it would be pointless if you were having trouble restraining your homicidal half. We'll be hard-pressed as it is to stay out of sight from the witch-hunters once we get to Germany. Spare bodies pile up fast and they'll be watching for stuff like that."

Akabane digested this with a silent nod.

"And," Ban continued in a quieter tone, carefully sliding closer to him and slipping a hand over his, "I can't give you what you want if you keep everything bottled up inside forever. All secrets find the light sooner or later. I just don't want yours blowing us both to hell before I'm ready to deal with it."

Akabane examined his face closely, the conflicting emotions within reflected in the varying shades of purple as he sought to process what Ban was telling him. "Then...you still trust me...even now..."

"Of course I trust you, Kuroudo." Ban squeezed the transporter's hand in his. "It's your rider who bothers me."

Akabane tilted his head, looking puzzled now. "But Ban-kun...we are one and the same. We have always been, since the covenant..."

"And if that were true," Ban said, "what do you think that other would choose? Would he keep his gloves on?"

A slight flush suffused Akabane's face. Memories of past choices and mistakes swelled doubt within. He had had a choice, had he not, with some of them? Any of them? He remembered the Kanzaki gang, the leader who had pushed past those limits and provoked the whispers into a blistering rage. That unfortunate man had been only one of several enemies who had tested Akabane's tenuous boundaries and found them sorely wanting.

It used to be that Akabane was confident in his ability to manipulate the currents as he pleased. But then, that was before he had met Ban. With new paths opening up before him, faced with possibilities so unlike anything he'd ever known, could it be that, perhaps, he was not as secure as he believed?

The thought was most troubling. It had occurred to him before, of course, in fleeting manner, then retreated just as quickly, as if skittish, afraid of angering...something, if it were to be brought into clearer focus. But always, it remained in shadow, far enough from yet cautiously near to the outskirts of his mind that he could not dismiss it entirely. This was the first time the notion had been openly exposed – naturally, by Ban, the battle genius unafraid of any challenge.

The whispers were still there. They had not been silenced; they merely took another form, and another, while they tempted Akabane with bloody promises and threatened bloodier retribution if he would not heed their lusts. If he lost control again, how many more would join in the darkness? More to the point – who would be next at scalpel's end?

Not that Akabane was given to confession, but if he were asked by certain people – and only by specific ones – there was a chance he would surrender a few names of those who he had grown more than fond of... It would be a shame, truly, to see such light of life extinguished.

He looked at the gloves again, and then Ban. He knew now what he must do.

"I will not let the Other ruin this for us. You have my word." Akabane tightly clasped Ban's hand in his, holding it over his heart. "You are right, Ban-kun. The gloves are a necessary evil." Solemnity was broken by a sudden smile, more familiar territory. "It was very kind of you to think of me."

Blue eyes held his gaze, then relaxed into similar affection. "That's my Jackal."

He started to get up from the couch, unable to ignore the gnawing nicotine craving any longer, and search out a spare pack of cigarettes. Akabane pounced, wrapping his arms around Ban and pulling him down on top of him as they both fell backward into the cushions.

"We are going to have fun on this mission, aren't we, Ban-kun," the transporter said, making a statement of his purring sibilance.

Ban reached up and ruffled the unruly ebony locks. "Idiot. Yes. Yes, we are."

Akabane's face warmed into sunshine, and he pecked a gentle kiss onto the tip of his lover's nose. "Good. That's all I wanted to hear."

XX

Gouzou Maguruma was fit to be tied. He spent the first half-hour of the trip griping about all the ways a tire iron could be used to dispose of certain individuals. Since they were in agreement with him, Akabane and Himiko patiently let him vent without interruption, though they had different motives for their respective silences.

Himiko was busy planning what she'd do when Shah-tzi Feng – a potions master not unlike herself, though she preferred blow darts to perfume bottles – made unflattering comparisons between Himiko and a variety of foul-smelling species of rare plant. She had one scorching response ready; the next poisonous comeback she was reserving for Varlou when that one decided to smear her reputation as a competent agent.

Meanwhile, Akabane was basking in the self-satisfaction from perfidy well-orchestrated. He was content to let Maguruma's vitriol stream over him without taking much notice of it. Besides, he was used to Gouzou's temper. The man needed to blow off enough steam before they met up with their hated rivals, or the fight would erupt prematurely and spoil Akabane's surprise.

He himself was determined that nothing should thwart this glorious plan and ruin the adventure Ban had promised him. Whether the threat came from Crashers or the Other, Akabane had vowed he would prove, once and for all, that he was the master of his own destiny.

Mr. No-Brakes continued to expound upon the merits of swift Varlou-removal, thus proving that he was, as on the road, unstoppable once he got wound up on a topic of revulsion. "Forty-five minutes downtown, all just so we can collect that pathetic rustbucket showpiece he calls a vehicle. Worthless thing's not even half as fast as my Betty in third gear. I'll flatten it with him buried in the trunk, I swear I will, first crack that comes out of his mouth about us being late - "

"Calm down, Gouzou," Akabane counseled, deciding that it was time to call a temporary halt to the verbal bloodletting. "You're going to stress your blood pressure."

"Too late," Maguruma growled. "Gas isn't cheap these days. He's just making me waste it - "

" - Because he knows it upsets you," Akabane said. "That's what he wants, so don't let him get to you. If he does, he wins."

"Sage advice coming from the person who wants to cut off all his protruding body parts starting from the neck down."

Akabane suppressed a sigh. "That was the old habit. I have prepared new strategies now." He flexed his fingers, sheathed in the new black gloves Ban had given him, inside his coat pockets. "Much though it would certainly be an improvement to separate our mutual vermin's head from his shoulders, it will not leave as much lasting fulfillment. I intend to enjoy this job to all possible limits."

"Ah, trying death by a thousand paper cuts instead of one J this time?" Maguruma said with lessened rancor.

"Something like that," Akabane agreed. "Except everyone gets a turn. He owes us. And when we're done we'll pour lemon juice on the cuts. Figuratively speaking, of course." He paused in thought. "Although, perhaps Himiko-san, you have some suitably noxious substance in your arsenal that we could experiment with, in the event he suffers actual damage?" He smiled.

"Seven levels of pain to choose from," she replied, patting the ever-present harness she wore. "Pick your poison or dealer's choice."

"Whichever causes the most discomfort is fine with me," Akabane said. "Or shall we drag it out, one nasty needle-scratch at a time, so we can watch them squirm?"

"No need," Himiko said. "As soon as we hit them with our trump card they'll be so stunned by their own incompetence, that'll be torture enough."

"True, that," Akabane agreed, the malevolent gleam in his eye matching the glint of Himiko's fanged smile.

From the driver's seat, Maguruma said, "For the record, I'd just like to state that I have no problem with inflicting a little physical pain on Itoh Narada."

Himiko suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She'd never understand men, she supposed. "Still sore about the bobble-girl?"

"Hula girl," Maguruma corrected. "You would be too if you came back from lunch and found her head replaced with a spark plug!"

A muted snuffle of laughter came from the back of the cab. "Oh, come now, Gouzou, you have to admit, that one was rather funny," Akabane said.

"Oh yeah? How's that missing knife of yours, again?"

Akabane's instant scowl could have broken Maguruma's rear-view mirror. "You're lucky I like you, Mr. No-Brakes."

Satisfied that he'd scored a hit on his partner's sensitive ego, Maguruma smirked. "I just had new tires put on Betty. While you two play with Varlou and Shah-tzi, I'll be steamrolling Itoh Oil-Slick, sunglasses and all."

Akabane sniffed. "You may do as you please. We'll have all the fun! Won't we, Himiko-san?"

"Ask me after we've gotten paid."

Two people, a man and woman leaning against the outside of a bright red convertible, met them at their next stop. The woman, who was a head taller than Himiko, wore tight black pants, a grey leather jacket, and a puffball of a mane that was almost the exact shade of rust on one of Maguruma's old hubcaps. A bright blond chunk took up the forefront of her bangs. She carried a belt filled with what at first glance looked like tiny sewing needles. From harsh experience, Himiko could have told anyone unsuspecting that these were Shah-tzi Feng's – Stinger, as she was known in the underworld – chief weapon of choice: poison darts she fired at her enemies using the slender blowpipe she had tucked inside the holster beneath her jacket. She regarded the male transporters with cool indifference; for Himiko, she reserved a patronizing shrug, which was met with an equally hostile glare.

Maguruma ignored the women's terse exchange and directed his ire towards the man. "Wait a minute. There's supposed to be three of our gang and three of yours. Where's the Slick?"

"He couldn't make it. He's out on illness leave." A hand lifted and smoothed over the slightly-receding top of white-blond hair, pulled back into a short ponytail. Teeth even whiter flashed a barracuda grin. "What's the matter, motorhead? Thought you'd be pleased to see one less of us."

Akabane nudged his cohort. "I can arrange it so that there's even fewer of them, you know..."

Gouzou pretended he hadn't heard the murmured offer. "We both know our group wouldn't trust yours with a wet paper bag. Where's Itoh, hiding somewhere so he can ambush us on your signal?"

The man laughed, a cold slice of derision as tacit acknowledgment of the bad blood. "I'm hurt, Mr. No-Brakes. To think that the most celebrated driver of the _hakobiya_ fraternity isn't even professional enough to put aside mutual enmity for the sake of a mission - "

"Cut the crap, Varlou! Where is he?" Himiko already had her fingers curled around a bottle of flame perfume. "I'll smoke him out if I have to!"

Hazel eyes flicked over her and dismissed her as nothing more bothersome than a buzzing insect. Varlou strolled past the fuming Himiko without a second glance and fixed his sights on Akabane.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't tall, dark and bloody. Tell me, are the nights any kinder to you now that you've one less quill to lob at people? It must get awfully lonely, having only one hundred and seven scalpels to cuddle up with..."

"Try a recount. I've acquired a couple of new toys since last we met," Akabane answered curtly. "And I'm looking ever so forward to sticking them all in you."

Varlou withheld a snicker and did his best to look down his long nose at Akabane, no easy feat considering that the two men were of nearly equal height. "You have to catch me first, pet. That is, if you've the moxie for it anymore. I'd heard that the Jackal finally allowed himself to be neutered. Rather a sad day indeed, if you ask me, when the former finest transporter in the business couldn't outrun the dogcatcher." Over Akabane's audible growl, Varlou continued, his cultured voice ripening into gleeful malice. "So, how's domestic life treating you, old boy? Or should I say, old bitch?"

Himiko acted fast. "Money first, then you can kill him!" she hissed up at purple daggers as she latched onto Akabane's arm.

Shah-tzi had kept a watchful eye during the baiting. She took her shot at Himiko. "What are you, pipsqueak, his kennel-keeper?"

"Pipsqueak?" Twin indigo fires blazed and the flame scent winked out of sight as devolution popped up between Himiko's fingers. "Why don't you suck some Stone Age, skunk-face!"

"Ah!" Varlou neatly stepped in between the women before Himiko could fire off her intended dose. "Now, now, ladies. We do have a schedule to keep." For the first time he deigned to confer his gaze upon Himiko, his lips twisted in a half-smile of deliberate boredom. "Those are pretty big words coming from such a small girl. Sure you wouldn't rather run home to your dollies and dead brother instead, sweetheart?"

He waited long enough to catch the savage fury gnarling up Himiko's face before turning his back, and so missed the quick shift of shadow as Akabane stepped into her path to prevent her from launching herself, teeth, nails and poisons, at their hated rival.

"Out of my way, Jackal! I'll kill him! You're dead, Varlou, you hear me?"

Akabane did step back, closer to Varlou. "Oh, so it's all right when you want to kill someone! But when I do it, suddenly I'm the villain. Fine, I see how it is. I'll remember that, Lady Poison!"

Amused by this display, Varlou forgot his proximity to Akabane and looked over to Shah-tzi. He started to laugh out another snide remark, but as he was turning his face back to the action his vision suddenly went dark and pain exploded through his skull. He fell, cursing and rolling, clutching at his bloodied nose.

"Now." Akabane straightened out his black glove and stood over Varlou, death glazing every syllable of his voice. "The next words out of your mouth had better be an apology, or you lose a tongue."

Groaning, the rogue glanced up at his partner, but Shah-tzi knew better than to interfere at this point. Like any sensible agent, she had no desire to find out what a J carved into one's torso looked like. Varlou was forced to crawl to his knees and stagger onto his feet sans assistance, slow-roasting the other transporters with silent measure as he focused the worst of his glares on Akabane.

Blood dripped from his nostrils, across his lips, and spattered the ground as he spat the word. "Sorry!"

Akabane said nothing. He held the other man's stare long enough to convey a clear picture of shortly forthcoming doom, and at last Varlou backed away, muttering disgust to soothe his wounded pride while he tried to stop the tide of red from seeping further down his chin.

"Forget Itoh. We don't need him to do this pissant job. Let's load up the car and go."

To Maguruma, Varlou snapped, "I hope you're insured, No-Brakes. If anything happens to my car - "

" - I'll be the first one to celebrate," Gouzou shot back.

He stalked off toward the trailer to open it and unload the planks so that the Crashers could drive their vehicle inside it. Himiko and Akabane watched while Shah-tzi maneuvered the car and Varlou barked orders for the care of it to a stone-faced Maguruma.

Himiko spoke. "I'll give you a million yen if you saw a big J in his back when Maguruma's not looking."

Grim amusement stretched Akabane's lips into a thin flat line. "I'd write the entire _Tale of Genji_ across his insufferable face just for one yen."

Both transporters breathed out stressed sighs. "Even knowing that Ban and Ginji are ahead, it's going to be a long trip," Himiko moaned.

XX

TBC


	52. Going For The Gold part 6

Notes:

X: Harry Potter and its characters don't belong to me but to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. No profit is intended. Mention thereof is only for entertainment purposes.

X: Agdistis is an OC that belongs to the lovely Kemurikat; I give him honorable mention in honor of her. :)

XX

Had she only known just how far ahead Ban and Ginji were decidedly not, Himiko's displeasure would have escalated into a full scream. As for Akabane, he had yet to test the full scalpel-restraining strength of his new gloves, but it was likely a safe bet that those limits would have been pressed to the breaking point, if he had likewise been made aware of the Get Backers' present location.

"Dammit, Ginji! I said crank 'up' on the jack! Up, not down! How am I supposed to get this freakin' wheel off?"

"Sorry, Ban-chan!" Eyes still fixated on the ice cream truck dwindling in the distance, wishing he'd had some change in his pockets for a scoop or two of fudge marble, Ginji obediently pumped the jack until the Subaru's front end tilted up high enough for Ban to undo the nuts and pull the damaged tire off. "Wow, one little spike did all that?" He reached over and fingered the inch-long gash in the tire's sidewall.

"Not the spike, the internal pressure from the initial puncture." Ban wiped his face on his shirt and snorted in irritation at the offending object. Its cherry-sized head protruded perfectly through the top of the center tread, while its body – all four inches of it – was presumably buried straight to the center of the tire. "Baby just couldn't handle weight and support a leaking tire at the same time. Something had to give."

He glared up at the sky, mentally replaying that awful moment when they'd heard a popping sound that had soon devolved into the dreaded flapping of deflated rubber on pavement. "But why the hell did it have to give now of all times!"

"We should call Himiko-chan and the others," Ginji suggested as he helped Ban roll the spare tire out from the trunk.

"Nothing doing! I don't need her thinking I can't wipe my ass without a diaper," Ban grumbled. "Anyway, have you forgotten about Mr. I-Like-To-Stab-Living-Things? He really wants this Europe trip." A momentary rise of pride surfaced in blue eyes as Ban recalled his talent for redirecting Akabane's pent-up energies into less deadly endeavors. "And I don't feel like getting needlepoint quilting done on my ass because of one little screw-up on our end."

"But you didn't do anything, Ban-chan," Ginji said as they wrestled the spare onto the car. "Technically, it wasn't our fault. How were we to know there was a spike in the road?"

"Rule number one of management, Ginji. Everything is your fault. Especially when it's not your fault." Ban slapped the nuts on and tightened them in place. "Let 'er down easy, now."

Ginji depressed the jack and the Subaru dropped to the ground with a rigid clunk.

"Moron! I said easy!"

Five minutes later they were speeding along the highway, as fast as Ban dared push the gas pedal. The spare wasn't a smaller donut, as so many spares for cars were, but neither was it a full-fledged tire, so it could handle most normal speeds as long as the driver didn't try for any drag races. This, however, was something of an emergency, and Ban wasn't sure which prospect aggravated him more: the thought of another blowout and subsequent crash, or the thought of flubbing up the job and thus getting gored by an unhappy transporter who was expecting him to hold up his part of the joint mission.

Fate withheld her taunting for the time being and they made it to their assigned rendezvous, still on schedule. Ban shot a silent thanks heavenward to whatever deities were feeling benevolent towards him today and parked the car, hidden under the bushes as he'd been instructed, leaving just a hint of windshield visible so they could spot their target and move in once signaled to.

He thought about calling Himiko just to inform her of their status, but quickly decided against it. He didn't need her harping on him about the flat either. Besides, their part was simple. Stop the getaway car, fool the occupants with his Evil Eye long enough to grab the delivery, then scram and meet up with No-Brakes in the truck. That should be easy enough. Right?

"What now, Ban-chan?"

"Now...we wait."

XX

Gouzou Maguruma clenched his teeth and turned up the radio. He wasn't particularly fond of the song currently playing, but fluffy teenaged synth-pop beat having to listen to the hostile exchange taking place in the back half of the cab. Since he was the lead driver of this operation – for now – his attention was better focused on the road, and the parasites hitching a most unwelcome ride with his crew likely wouldn't bother wasting the energy required to sustain a concerted spat with him.

They were having more fun anyway, messing with the hornet's nest that comprised his partners.

Maguruma shook his head and hoped that he'd remembered to store enough cleaning supplies in the truck. He was not looking forward to the mess he'd have to deal with once this mission was through. Four angry transporters penned up in a shoebox-sized cabin, two of them with real axes to grind, and what were the chances that all four exited the truck unharmed? Very poor indeed.

"So, Kuroudo darling. I'd love to hear all about your latest fling," Varlou drawled, kicking out an insolent leg into Akabane's personal space as his boot landed on the stretch of black coat sprawled on the floor. He'd managed to stop his nosebleed and clean most of the injury's evidence away, but his nose had started that telltale swelling, so he'd raided Maguruma's first-aid kit for an icepack. "I hear he's quite the gutter rat. You do like them rough, don't you?"

Icy purple eyes flicked to the offending boot trapping the tail of his coat. Akabane raised his subzero glare to his rival and issued his response with just as much dismissal. "You have no idea."

Varlou grinned, undeterred by the other's implied violence. He'd been known to deal in just as deep a pool of bloodletting as Doctor Jackal, although with far less frequency. "Sure you wouldn't rather try someone a little higher up in the ranks? With my sais and your scalpels, we could cut quite the path through the underworld."

Akabane's lips thinned as though he'd tasted something foul in the air. "Amateurs hold no fascination for me."

Varlou smiled a ghost's chill, patient as he sought the best place to stick his verbal skewers for maximum effect. "If that's the case, your little retriever boy must have something special, for you to have hung around him for so long. Yes, I know all about it," he said with a mean chuckle when Akabane's eyes narrowed. "Your puppy there - " he nodded at Himiko - "broke the news to me first. Then I ran into Agdistis a while back. He filled me in, bless his shriveled little heart. You know nothing gets by his nosy ears."

He leaned in, just enough to cause discomfort but far away enough that Akabane couldn't strike at him so easily. "So. Tell me. What's this street trash got that has you panting after him all the time?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Akabane's voice dropped several more degrees into flesh-scalding frigidity. "That 'street trash,' as you put it, could crush every bone in your body before you had time to blink. He could tear off your face with his bare hands and laugh as he handed it back to you. And just for fun, for his amusement, he could make you experience your wildest nightmares in the space of a mere minute, and leave you begging for death by the end."

Varlou was unimpressed. "Is that so."

"I shan't even mention what his partner is capable of. Suffice to say that if he were in the mood to do so, that one could fry you to a blackened crisp with the snap of his fingers. He's an emperor of the fight."

Condescension bubbled in hazel depths. Varlou faked a yawn. "You'll have to try harder than that if you want to frighten me, pet."

Akabane's smile surfaced now, a poisonous serpent's flicker as he delivered his final lethal salvo. "Also, my retriever's incredible in bed."

Varlou's eyes hardened.

"Jealous? You ought to be." Akabane smirked. "You never could quite...satisfy...where it mattered the most, Varlou."

The other man's face turned ruddy. "As if a guttersnipe retriever could ever measure up to a professional like me! In any capacity, I'll add."

Himiko jumped in, ready with her potshot. "Don't worry, Varlou. They do have support groups to help guys like you cope with their...shortcomings." She held up her thumb and index finger, millimeters apart. "They're kind of in...small...supply though." She and Akabane shared a quiet titter of amusement over her innuendo-laden jabs.

Shah-tzi rose to her comrade's aid then, frowning at Himiko. "What would you know anything about it, baby doll? I don't think you've even gotten your first training bra yet, much less an actual boyfriend who wasn't made out of vinyl."

"Maybe some of us aren't as desperate as you," Himiko coldly informed her. "Or do you just enjoy slumming with bottom-feeders so much because you know no man with a functioning brain wants to catch whatever you're crawling with from being around Varlou?"

Shah-tzi's painted lips curled apart, but it was Varlou who spoke. "Little girls who've developed smart mouths on them better rein it in before they get hurt. Big brother isn't around anymore to protect you, you know."

"I don't need Yamato to take down a couple of half-wits like you," Himiko snapped.

"Well, you need something with a little more muscle to it than a few cheap perfume bottles if you want to play our game, honey," Shah-tzi sneered. "That must be why you're always sniffing at Jackal's heels. It's easy to act so tough when you can run crying back to the big boys after somebody stomps your braying ass into the pavement. Too bad you don't have the guts to face a real pro like me head-on, but I don't mind giving you a free lesson in how way out of your league you are."

She reached for her blowpipe – or would have, if a black-clad shadow hadn't shot out then and seized her by the throat. The woman's eyes bulged and Varlou yelled, but Akabane refused to give quarter.

"You have a big decision to make now, Feng-san. Possibly the most important one you'll ever make."

The smooth voice was laced with a vengeance that not even Varlou had touched on, and everyone in the cab – save for Maguruma, who was still watching the road – stared as the female Crasher gasped and struggled in its merciless squeeze.

"For Christ's sake, she's turning purple!" But Varlou made no attempt to pry the black-gloved fingers away from his companion's neck, as he crouched back against the wall of the cab.

Even Himiko was startled by the ferocious attack. "Jackal - "

Shah-tzi's face was already mottled with darkening colors. Her struggles weakened quickly, her nails scratching ineffectually at fingers with the strength of full-force steel behind them.

Akabane continued, his voice still soft with ruthless intent. "Well, Feng-san? Decide. Do you want to keep talking - " the black death constricted further, and flesh gave audible way - "or do you want to live?"

Fingers tightened again, and just as she was on the verge of plunging into unconsciousness Shah-tzi answered in the form of a frantic nod, inasmuch as she was able to given her predicament. Akabane obliged and she flopped to the floor, coughing and sucking in wheezes of shuddering air.

Wisely, she kept her hands well away from her weapons as she clambered back up to her seat, though she flung plenty of verbal venom in her wake. "Fucking psycho! You nearly killed me! And you," she rasped at Varlou as she rubbed her red-marked throat, "you could've gotten off your lazy ass and helped, you bastard!"

"And wind up a chopping block? I don't think so," her partner growled.

"Give me that!" Shah-tzi snatched the icepack Varlou had dropped and did her best to cushion her bruising neck with its cooling relief.

Varlou fixed Akabane with pointed interest, his words dripping with sinister undertones. "You don't know what you're missing out on, turning my offer down. We could paint the whole town red."

Akabane sent him a withering glare. "I can do that all by myself, thank you. And it will please me greatly to start with your blood."

"You'll have to draw it first, you uncouth savage," the other transporter hissed, shedding any pretense of affectionate civility.

The group remained quiet after that, perhaps because the enclosed space wouldn't have permitted a real fight to properly slake anyone's lust for battle. Maguruma kept his radio going only to fill the silence, and to distract himself from continually looking in the rearview mirror to gauge how well he could get bloodstains out of his seat material without calling in professional cleaning services.

On schedule, they arrived at the second pickup point, where they would collect the transport to be delivered. But first there was the requisite hurdle to clear before they could be on their way. The client had informed them that the opposition was expecting their visit.

"Extra bodies will just slow us down," Varlou remarked as the four transporters filed out of the truck, eager to put distance between each side. "So try not to screw it up, Kuroudo."

"Try not to steal someone else's protocol while you're displaying your pathetic lack of finesse," Akabane retorted without a backward glance.

"Barbarian."

"Copycat."

"Haven't you heard, pet? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

Himiko and Shah-tzi paid no attention to the men's contest of wills. They were too busy staging their own.

"See you at the finish line, witch." Shah-tzi headed for the nearby building, not waiting for Himiko to catch up. "Pay attention and you just might learn something about true skill."

"Why should I need to learn how to be an abject failure when you already do it so well?"

"Spoiled runt."

"Stuck-up cow."

They all headed separate ways once inside, Himiko meeting up with Akabane. "Can we really trust them to do their job like they're supposed to?"

"Of course not." Akabane patted her shoulder as they wound through the corridors. "Patience, my Lady Poison. They will hang themselves in due time."

"I'm not worried about that." Himiko snorted. "I just want for us to be able to get in and grab our stuff before Varlou decides to play another round of dagger-tag with you."

Akabane made a soft chuckle, the familiar delight of old. "Let he who is without sin cast the first scalpel."

Himiko scowled at him. "You have that look in your eye again."

"I've no idea what you're talking about." Akabane wouldn't meet her gaze.

"You know what I mean. You're keeping secrets again." Himiko caught hold of the sleeve of his coat and dragged him to a stop. "We discussed this before, remember, Akabane? It's not nice to withhold critical information from your partners."

She gave him an almost pleading glare, and he buckled under with a sigh. "Very well. All I'm going to say is that Maguruma is keeping a very close eye on his trailer. Betraying us is the kiss of death for the Crashers. When the time comes, Midou-kun and Ginji-kun will know exactly what to do."

Himiko studied him for several moments, weighing his words. She sighed, squared her shoulders, and picked up pace alongside him again.

"They'd better, or I'll kill them myself."

XX

"Okay, are we clear on this now? Voldemort has the super-wand, the elder one. He thinks it's his 'cause he killed Snape, and Snape was the one who killed Dumbledore, and Dumbledore was the one who had the super-wand before Voldemort got it."

"Huh? Who's Snape?"

"He's the cranky wizard, the teacher that Harry doesn't like."

"I thought that was McGonagall."

"No, McGonagall's cool. She's sort of like Paul, except she doesn't drink coffee and she looks like Maria in her real form. But anyway, Harry kills Voldemort, even though Voldemort killed him first, but he didn't really kill Harry, just the part of himself that was living inside Harry."

"How can Harry come back to kill off Voldemort if he's already dead?"

"Because Dumbledore sent him back. He said Harry could choose, stay with him or go back and save everybody. Harry can kill Voldemort, because the spell that the evil wizard was using to protect himself is all gone after Harry dies. That's how Harry can get back the elder wand and win the big battle."

"What? You said earlier that the punk-ass Draco kid was the real owner of the big stick. This doesn't make any sense!"

Ginji rolled his eyes. "Geez, Ban-chan, and you're the warlock. I can't believe I have to explain Potterlore to you!"

"I can't believe I'm letting you explain it. It's like pouring acid in my ears," Ban complained. "Some of us have to make a living and we prefer to pay attention to our actual jobs, you know? Read the book on working stiffs when you get a chance."

"Well, I didn't read all the series," Ginji admitted. "I saw most of the movies with Makubex and Emishi. The movies are a little different from the books, but they're still pretty good. You should watch some with me."

"Flash me some cash first, then maybe I'll think about it," Ban said. "Back to work with you, Lord Moldywart. We go with Plan A, got it?"

"What's Plan A?"

Ban resisted the urge to slap the back of Ginji's head. "It's like Plan B, only with improv. Remember? We went over it twice."

"Oh. Well, then, which is Plan B?"

"That's where we differ from Plan C."

"What's Plan C?"

"Dummy, that's the backup!"

"I thought Plan B was the backup."

"No, that's the second line of defense," Ban almost yelled.

Ginji gnawed at his lip in thought. "Okay. But what if B and C go bad, do we have a D just in case?"

"Yeah, but we don't need D, because we've got A."

"Well, what if A goes wrong? Do we jump straight to D, or do we go back to B and try again?"

Ban stared at him. "No, we beat your head into the dashboard and open up some air into that brain you call the castle of Pigsnorts."

"That's Hogwarts," Ginji corrected cheerfully.

Ban's stare intensified. "Ginji. It's late. I haven't had my java medication yet. Don't make me pound you."

He sat back in the seat and faced the windshield again, resting his hands on the steering wheel. "Now for the last time, Plan A is our action, got it?"

"Don't worry, Ban-chan. I know just what to do." Ginji saluted him and peered ahead into the windshield with the same eager readiness he had for every mission. "Mr. No-Brakes will signal us when the Party Crashers steal the transport item. Then when they show up on this road, we bust their chops!" He smacked a gloved fist into his palm.

"By?" Ban prompted. "C'mon, Gin, what do we do next?"

"You get their car to stop. Then when they get out, you zap them with a Jagan while I sneak around the side and get back the delivery."

"Attaboy! That's using the 'ol wet noodle." Ban's fingers closed around the rim of the steering wheel. He could feel it now, that wonderfully coiling tension whenever they were laying out victory strategy. His juices were up; he was jazzed, and so was Ginji. They were the unstoppable, the one and only Get Backers, retrieval team par excellence. Nothing could stand in their way now.

"We'll hand over the item to the transporters once they catch up, they take it to the client, and we all get paid. And Jackal and I hop on the first plane to our world tour and jet-set across Europe." Ban smacked his lips in anticipation of all the exotic cuisine he planned to devour.

"And nobody gets stabbed by Akabane-san," Ginji reminded him. "That's the most important part."

"And nobody gets stabbed," Ban conceded. Then he thought of the dossier Akabane had given him, and amended his previous statement. "Well...one person is probably going to be. But trust me, Yami Doko, or whatever the hell he's calling himself now, he deserves a knife or dozen in the back. Tonight, we avenge ourselves, Ginji!"

"We are?"

"Damn right we are. Nobody screws with the Get Backers' good name and gets away with it!"

The radio Ban had brought along on the trip crackled alive. "Heads up, avenging angels. The Crashers are en route your way. Use any means necessary to stop them!"

Ban grabbed the radio and relayed his confirmation. "Got your back, No-Brakes." He snapped his fingers and pointed at the backseat; a pair of binoculars was immediately passed to him. He lifted them to his face and trained his sights on the road ahead of them. "Evil eyes will be watching and ready."

Ginji drew a fist in the air and spoke in his ridiculous imitation of a booming baritone. "They shall not pass!"

"They'd better not, Gandalf, because if those dirtlickers escape, you're going to find out for yourself what the pit of Mount Doom looks like up close!" ordered a female voice from the radio.

Ban pressed the relay button. "We're on it, Himiko!"

"Check your settings," Maguruma advised Ban. "You've been on steady stream the whole time."

"Roger that."

There was scuffling and static, and then, "I mean it, Ban! I just went through a month's worth of poison perfume tonight thanks to those assholes screwing over me and Jackal - "

More fumbling, as a new voice emanated from the speaker. "She means it, Ban-kun, and so do I. Please see to it that our enemies don't ruin the fun for us," Akabane warned.

Ban muttered a curse and hit relay again. "I told you, we've got this end covered!"

"With what, a stadium-sized tarp?" he thought he heard Maguruma grumble in the background. He would have replied if Ginji hadn't tugged his shirt sleeve.

"Want me to roll out the spike strips?" He held up a fat wad of road barrier, designed to puncture the tires of vehicles straying into guarded territory.

The radio squealed again. "And Ban-kun, don't forget about my scalpel either. You promised," Akabane said.

"Ban-chan - "

Ban waved Ginji off and looked through the binoculars again. "Will everybody just shut up and let me think!" He thought he spotted a dust cloud in the distance. "Hold the line, No-Brakes. I spy potential targets incoming."

"Roger that. Confirm and deploy, then call us up once you've got the goodies. Over and out!"

Ban tossed the radio to Ginji and reached for the glove compartment. Out slid a small transmitter box that bore a single switch.

"What's that, Ban-chan?"

"Jackal got a tip-off from Makubex when he brought home those dossiers on the Crashers. Before a big job, Varlou always takes his car to be serviced at this one mechanic's shop. Maguruma paid off the guy to install an extra service," Ban cackled as he activated the remote. "Time to open up your surprise package, suckers!"

He raised the binoculars again. This time there was no mistake. He could see the car barrelling down the road, seamlessly shooting past the other vehicles impeding its path. No one inside was visible yet, but from the way the driver was handling it, he sure wanted to get somewhere in a hurry.

"Not today, my pretty paycheck." Ban was hardly aware of the wicked grin that had begun to spread like marmalade over his face. He gripped the remote in one hand, binoculars in the other. "Come to Ban-sama the Great, baby!"

Ginji chortled alongside him. "Can I do it, Ban-chan?"

Ban gave him the control. "Don't hit it till I tell you to. Timing is everything, Ginji. Wait for it!"

They waited, breaths caught in their chests, bodies stoked with pent-up energy waiting to unleash on their unsuspecting targets. Ginji was packed enough with it that tiny volts of blue current began to dance a jig across the ends of his hair.

"Idiot!" Ban hissed. "Don't drain the car battery, we need wheels!"

"Sorry!"

"Get ready. Here they come. Oh yeah, that's gotta be Yami Doko, all right. Smug son of a bitch. Nobody shorts me a sweet yen and struts off thinking they've won." A few more seconds, and now the car was cleanly visible, all three occupants apparent inside.

"Ginji – now!"

Ginji pressed the button on the transmitter. Seconds later the interior of the getaway car was filling up with green smoke, and the car swerved and screeched to a grinding stop. Not coincidentally, the Get Backers' car, concealed mostly beneath the surrounding shrubbery, was sitting just a few yards away.

The two retrievers watched as the three Party Crashers bailed out of their vehicle, coughing and cursing while they tried to empty out the fumes that Maguruma's remote had triggered. The ringleader, the infamous Varlou, stumbled out in front, swearing a rancid streak, and Ban realized then that they were in trouble.

"Shit! He's wearing anti-Jagan sunglasses!"

He dropped the binoculars as he and Ginji scrambled to accommodate the unexpected flaw in their brilliant scheme. "Quick, rustle up Plan B!"

Behind them, the radio growled. "Midou-kun? Midou-kun? What's this I hear about sunglasses?"

"Oh, damn it, Ban - "

Maguruma's authority cut through the din. "Buckle up, you two. We're all going to hell and I'm driving!"

XX

Speed had always been one of Ban's greatest battle assets; he gave thanks for that particular gift now as he and Ginji scrambled into their disguises that they'd cobbled together. "You know what to do. Wait till I've got 'em fixed, then toast those two dimwits and grab the package. I'll handle Yami Doko," he hissed under his breath to Ginji as they scuttled out of hiding.

"You got it, Ban-chan!"

Ban pulled the brim of his cowboy hat lower, fighting the urge to sneeze from the tickling strands of the outrageously bushy mustache he'd donned. They cleared the shrubbery where their car was stashed and got a better view of the Party Crashers up close. Two men and a woman were simultaneously coughing for fresh air and cursing their sudden twist of bad luck, as one of the men – Yami-Varlou – smacked the back of the wheelman's head. Light struck the side of Varlou's neck then, and the long thin flash of silver shivered on the end of its chain before it was tucked back inside Varlou's collar.

That answered the question of what had been done with Akabane's scalpel, Ban supposed. He wondered if the two transporters had had a brief fight earlier. Varlou's nose looked a little red and puffy, as if someone had clocked him solid. He focused on the quarreling quarry.

"What happened, Itoh? We were supposed to have crossed districts by now!"

The driver – a somewhat short and stocky man – curled his lip at the leader. "How should I know, Var? You know I always have the car checked over before a big run. Manny gave it a clean bill of health, I saw the records myself!"

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was one of Kudou's timed stink bottles. The car was running fine before all that smoke came out of nowhere," the woman said.

"Which means it's not running fine now," Varlou growled. "And you two chucklehounds had better find out why and get us back on the road before our competition comes plowing for our heads! I'm not about to let that damned Jackal play etch-a-sketch on my - "

"Friends!"

The transporters turned around to see two men loping in their direction. One was blond and wore a rug's worth of cowhide fringe. The other, a mustachioed bandit, flashed them equal parts smile and shiny imitation-gold suspenders as he tipped his hat in greeting.

Weapons flicked into view as Varlou's comrades prepared to deal with the interlopers. Varlou himself didn't yet pull a weapon, but he did step forward to point a menacing finger. "You're not any friends of ours. So unless you feel like eating poison dart I suggest you just walk off back the way you came!"

"Now, now, partner! We ain't here t'rustle, we're your gen-you-ine guardian angels here! We done seen how y'all had a little car trouble thar, and we like t'figure doin' the charitable thing and helpin' y'all out. Right, Custer-George?"

"Right on, Ba – um, Hidalgo!"

The stubby Crasher, Itoh, spoke up. He had a nasal whine in his voice. "Who the hell are you?"

Ban tugged on his aviator sunglasses and gave the Crashers his most ingratiating grin. "Why, my partner and I just happen to be certy-fied mechanics qualified to take on any vehicular mishap. One hundred percent success rate! Our customers done love our tender expertise, and we ain't even gonna charge ya here for this act of generosity. Us road buddies gotta look out for one another, ain't that right, Custer-George!"

"Right, Hidalgo!"

"Y'all just give us a quick peek at them thar shiny wheels, and we'll have y'all back scootin' down that purty black pavement in no time - "

"Hold it." Varlou's coldly handsome face was set in a scowl as he blocked Ban's path. "You two hayseeds didn't just appear by coincidence. What's your angle?"

Ban pretended to be hurt. "Ain't no angle, son. We like t'do y'all a favor, seein' as how yer such an important businessman. Yep, I done seen the way y'all were drivin' in my rearview mirror there. Left that silly little semi-truck that was chasin' ya in the dust! Bet ya sure showed that fool a good lesson, huh? I says to my pal, 'Custer-George, that there is a man with a mission. A right powerful man. A super-duper bad fella. Ain't nobody gonna get in his way, nope! That's a true professional. He-all knows what he's doin'. That semi driver is probably sittin' in a ditch right now goin' to himself, 'Man, I done screwed with the wrong dude today, 'cuz that tall good-lookin' blondie sure as shit punked my fool ass. Ain't never gonna be even half as smooth or smart as him, nope!'"

"I was the one driving - " Itoh started to say before Varlou slapped him aside.

"Well, I do pride myself on my ability to assess people," the ringleader said with a ripe smirk. "After all, I am the best transporter in the business."

"See here, now, that's exactly what I'm talkin' about!" Ban approached the Crashers once more, seeing that Shah-tzi and Itoh had lowered their weapons at Varlou's nod. "Why – transporter...I just bet y'all are the mighty Vartou, ain't ya?"

"Varlou."

Ban snapped his fingers. "Varlou! Ah knew it! Ah done told ya it was him, Custer-George!" He slapped Ginji, whose fringe vest fluttered from top to bottom. "I says, 'Boy hidey, from the skill and technique that there cherry bomb is movin' with, I bet only the great Varlou can handle a vehicle like that!' Only guy I know who can make 'em all suck tumbleweed dust, am I right?"

Varlou's chest puffed out. "I see. Even my reputation is known to a pair of outsiders such as yourselves?"

"Son, you is one famous dude even in our neck o' the woods! Where we come from, we ain't got no good transporters, we-all got to hire some or do the drivin' ourselves, and let me tell you, Custer-George here might be a handsome enough fella to look at, but he sure as shootin' can't sing, and boy don't ever let him near your lunchbox, lessin' you want to skip meals."

Ginji made a face. "Hey!"

Ban punched him away. "In our parts I always dreamed of meetin' a man of your mettle, Mr. Varlou, sir." He walked right up to the blond and grabbed his hand, shaking it hard enough to make the transporter's teeth rattle. "It is a gen-you-ine honor to make yer acquaintance, sir. Anythin' you need, you just ask, and Hidalgo here would be pleased as punch to get it for ya! So, how 'bout that there car o' yours? Mighty fine vehicle, I gotta say. Fit for a king like yourself, am I right?"

Varlou adjusted his sunglasses and smoothed back his hair as he considered how to deal with the situation. "I suppose...it is always nice to meet an admirer of my work."

A beeping noise from the car's interior drew everyone's attention. Itoh went to the driver's side and picked up a small electronic tablet. His nose scrunched.

"No-Brakes is comin' up!"

Over his shoulder, Shah-tzi confirmed this with a grim nod. "They'll be here in less than five minutes, Var."

"Sod it." Varlou turned to Ban. "All right, Mr. Hidalgo. You get my car working again in less than two minutes and I'll not only pay you a fat fee, I'll see to it that you personally receive an honor so rare that only one other man can say he's seen it from me."

Ban clapped his hands together and blew him a noisy kiss. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about, son! I'll get that lil' beauty up and racin' in no time split!"

He nodded to Ginji and they both approached the car. "Y'all stand back now, give Custer-George room to work. Boy ain't worth spit on a shoe when it comes to sharin' a bunk, but whoa nelly can he work up a charge when he done puts his mind to car fixin's!"

XX

"We should have heard from them by now." Himiko's thumb rolled over the cork of a bottle of tracking perfume without popping it. "What's taking them so long?"

"Probably waiting for the Crashers to stop pissing themselves laughing over that godawful western accent Ban's using," Maguruma said, glancing at the radio where garbled snatches of conversation kept streaming through. "Does he always plan this haphazardly?"

Himiko let a deep sigh escape her lips. "Yeah, pretty much."

From the back of the cab, Akabane spoke. "Oh, I don't know. I thought that the Good Samaritan ruse was rather innovative. A tad naïve, perhaps, but still. It would be enough to take the Crashers off guard, at least."

"Let's just hope they're caught off guard long enough for the Get Backers to swipe our package." Himiko looked up through the windshield at the stretch of field that Maguruma was currently barreling through – a shortcut that would intersect with the route that Ban and Ginji were supposed to have taken once they'd relayed victory. "With all three Crashers in the game now, that's triple the risk of one of them escaping with the delivery, and I don't have enough poison perfume to be able to take even a single fighter."

"I knew I smelled a rat." Maguruma bore down on the steering wheel. "Sneaky bastards, stowing Itoh Oil-Slick in the trunk of Varlou's car and then making me load the Trojan horse into my own truck! 'Let's just put the package in your trailer for safekeeping, No-Brakes,' says the head vermin himself. All the better for Narada to slip out and pick up Varlou and Shah-tzi when they claim they want a smoke break."

"But it's all part of the plan, remember?" Akabane said. "You had to let them think they'd duped you, so that we can double-cross them back when they least expect it."

A snarl twisted Himiko's pretty face. "That bitch Shah-tzi. And that jackass Varlou! What I'm going to do to him - "

"Ah, ah," Akabane lifted a black-gloved finger. "He's mine. Remember? I called it earlier."

"Since when? We're sharing this time, Jackal. I want my piece of flesh. He owes me!"

"He owes me first," Akabane retorted. "Midou-kun had better not forget my scalpel. He promised. Besides, someone has to teach Varlou a lesson in respecting other people's territories. There's only one writer of the J and that mark belongs to me. I insist."

They stared at each other. Himiko held up a fist. "Odds."

Akabane raised his fist across from hers. They counted out a beat of three, and then their hands splayed open with opposing gestures.

"Dammit!"

"Ha! Scissors cuts paper. Varlou is fish bait," Akabane crowed, a feline smile settling along his mouth. "Please don't get in my way, hmm, Himiko-san?"

"I knew I should've used rock," she muttered. "You like scissors entirely too much!"

"I work with what I know best," Akabane said with a shrug.

"At least let me set him on fire before you have your fun. Or hit him with a nice blast of corrosion scent, melt his insufferable face off first..."

Akabane's eyebrow hitched a delicate arch. "Maybe." Pause. "If the opportunity presents itself. I'm not feeling especially benevolent about sharing the hunt tonight."

"Don't you mean the kill?" Himiko jibbed.

"That too," Akabane replied without a trace of chagrin. "How much further, Gouzou?"

"We're closing." Maguruma picked up his binoculars. "I see the road. And – there's Varlou's car. But I don't see people. Wait." He squinted harder and tried to adjust the instrument's clarity while maintaining control of the truck. "Ohhhhh..."

"I don't like that 'ohhhh,' Maguruma," Himiko said, coming up front to the passenger seat.

"Neither do I," Akabane said, also looming over them.

"Stepping on it as we speak," Maguruma confirmed, pressing his foot down on the gas pedal.

Himiko and Akabane sat down, bracing for the inevitable impact. She gave her partner a look.

"Ban knows about all the Crasher trickery, doesn't he?"

Akabane nodded. "You saw the dossiers. Makubex-kun's information was quite thorough."

"But does he know about – Varlou's -ahem-?" Himiko coughed loudly.

"I don't see why not. He's a retriever, it's his business to know the unexpected. And I believe I've prepared him with the very best tactical ammunition that Babylon bullion can buy."

Himiko stared at him. "Akabane. This is Ban we're talking about. He has absolutely no luck with money. Remember the IL job? The Venus one you two did? Clayman armed the Get Backers to the hilt with necessary planning, and they still hosed the whole deal when Ginji chucked the statue bits over the side of the S.S. Failboat."

Akabane frowned as he considered this. "Oh dear."

Himiko nodded. "Your missing scalpel? With Maria's help I've been doing some research on that since we first landed this gig. There's only one source that Varlou could have gotten the power from..."

Akabane's eyes widened. "You don't mean..."

"Uh-huh."

They locked gazes in muted dread. "Agdistis," they said together. Then Akabane added, sourpuss grimace in place, "Oh fudgesicles."

Himiko rolled her eyes. "If you're going to drop f-bombs, Jackal, say 'em like you mean 'em."

"That's Ban-kun's job," Akabane told her, wrinkling his nose at the thought of indulging profanity.

He leaned forward and tugged on Maguruma's sleeve. "Drive faster, Gouzou!"

XX

TBC


	53. Going For The Gold part 7

Title: Going For The Gold (part 7)  
Author: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #7 – "superstar"  
Rating: R (language)  
Warnings/Spoilers: None other than standard canon.  
Notes: Many thanks to you, wonderful readers. :)  
Disclaimer: Teh GB is not mine. Woe.  
- The Party Crashers are all OCs spawned by me (much to Akabane's and Ban's annoyances, lol).  
Summary: Ban and Akabane struggle to amass funding for their trip to Europe, efforts that receive an unexpected boost when old enemies cross paths with retrievers and transporters alike.

XXXXX

Everything was going his way, Ban thought. The opposition was falling for his scheme just as he'd planned, and Ginji was making short work of his end, pretending to scan and rummage through the Crashers' car for the smoke device Maguruma had paid to have secretly installed. All they had to do was one more follow-up, and the package would be theirs. As would the entire mission, lock stock and barrel, once they caught up with their team of transporters and delivered the job safely to the high-paying client.

Nothing could go wrong now. The plan was perfect.

"Found it!" Ginji back-crawled his way butt-first out of the car, holding aloft a flat rectangular box. It was still attached to the underside of the opened dashboard by several loose cords and wires. "A fuse is blown. Messes up your whole system. Wanna see?"

Shah-tzi and Itoh came closer, just as Ban had predicted they would. Ginji dropped the box and seized both transporters by the wrists, shooting them a jolt hard enough to temporarily stun them. They dropped to the side, rolling like fish tossed from the water.

At the same time Ban was spinning, right arm tensed, and he landed a square blow in Varlou's face. The lead Crasher went down without so much as a gasp.

"And that's good night and thank you, asshole!" Ban cackled, removing his sunglasses and ripping off his fake mustache and suspenders. "Ginji – the goods!"

"Already there, Ban-chan!" Ginji shut the trunk lid of the car and showed Ban what he'd withdrawn from it. The box was thick but not heavy, although whatever was inside made several muffled thumps as Ginji tilted it from side to side. "I wonder what it is?"

"Who cares. Stick it in our car while I get Jackal's knife, and let's get the hell out of here." Ban turned and stooped to reach for the scalpel hung around Varlou's neck. "What the - "

The long arm curling around his throat and the point of the sais jamming into his windpipe made him freeze cold in place. "Like I said. I pride myself on my ability to assess people accurately," Varlou chuckled into Ban's ear, and then his voice slipped into hard diamond. "Lose the country, Midou Ban. Oh yes, I remember you. You and your portable battery buddy. You aren't the only warlock in this here town."

"Shitcrackers," Ban muttered, wincing as the sais tip dug deeper into his throat. He managed to peek from the corner of his eye at the rubble of dirt that had been Varlou's golem-body, the one he thought he'd knocked out. Hadn't seen that coming, he thought with sinking disgust. And then he thought of the dossier he'd read, of Akabane's story about their blood feud. The scalpel should have tipped him off. How had he missed that crucial point?

"Didn't lover-boy tell you?" Varlou laughed. "That's why No-Brakes' gang has never bested mine. I'm a master of disguise. Fog in the shadows. Smoke on the wind. Yami Doko, kite that strikes in the dark." His grip on Ban tightened. "I didn't just come down with the last drop of bloody rain, Midou. Nobody gets the drop on Mervin Stuyvessant. Aka, the one and only Varlou."

In the distance, Ban could hear the rumble of a semi-truck. Nice of them to show up now. "It ain't over till the Jackal howls," he gritted through his teeth. "With a name like Mervin, I think you ought've packed a scalpel-proof umbrella!"

XXXXX

He would never admit it to anybody, but sometimes Ginji wondered whether or not Ban drank too much of Paul Wan's amazing coffee. Surely anybody who downed far less caffeine than his partner did on a regular basis had an easier time keeping their tongue in precarious situations. He made a mental note to ask Makubex to research this theory later, assuming of course that Ban still had a tongue left to drink with.

Not that Ban would ever lose when the stakes were so high.

But. Ginji thought it was a teensy bit hasty to taunt the enemy when that enemy's blade was getting a little friendlier with the flesh than Ban probably would have enjoyed. He winced along with his partner when Varlou, angered by the slighting of his true name, dug the point of his sai deeper into Ban's neck. A bead of bright red threaded its way downward.

Despite this mortal threat Ban remained calm, and even Ginji couldn't stifle an appreciative snicker when his friend launched another verbal swipe.

"Hey _Mervin,_is this how you're planning to defeat us, the magnificent Get Backers? Make us laugh ourselves to death?"

"You should talk, cowboy," Varlou snarled. "I've never seen such a pathetic display as you two. You'll die, all right, but it won't be nearly as amusing to you as it will be to me."

"Got news for you, chump," Ban ground out. "I don't buck off the farm that easily! Just ask Jackal – _if _he lets you live long enough to hear the answer." His eyes shifted to the rapidly-enlarging behemoth in the distance. Thank Aesclepius for No-Brakes, the only man who had a foot that was both lead and golden.

"Oh yes. Speaking of our mutual beloved – " Varlou smirked – "perhaps I'll share with you what I once permitted him. I did promise you an honor I'd only granted one other man," he laughed. Feeling Ban twitch in his grasp, Varlou smirked again. "Don't tell me you thought you were the only spellcaster alive in all Japan. Tsk, tsk. We must do something about that dreadful ego of yours. I think it needs a bit of – " the sai tip bored deeper – "deflating."

He nodded at Shah-tzi and Itoh, who had recovered from Ginji's shock-attack and were warily circling him with weapons drawn, she with her poison darts and he with a pair of nunchaku.

"You." Varlou flicked his glasses-shaded reptilian gaze at Ginji. "Lightning bug. Hand over the box. Do it nice and quiet and static-free, if you don't want your bronco buddy here to earn my special brand."

"No way! We always get back what we promise to," Ginji snapped, tiny sparks making the ends of his hair quiver in indignation at the thought that he'd surrender.

"But can you get back your friend's life once I've spilled all ten pints of it on the ground?" Varlou returned.

Ginji hesitated.

"You heard the man, spark plug. Fork over the transport item or Hopalong Bullshitty here gets it!" the female Crasher said.

"Ginji!" Ban growled, trying to twist away from the insistent prod of the sai, and not managing it very well. "Don't mess this one up!"

Ginji hesitated, casting nervous looks all around at Varlou's trap, his cohorts – and the rapidly approaching semi-truck that bore down upon all of them. Even the other two Crashers cornering him looked anxious at the sight of the big-wheeled monster roaring closer in a spray of smoky dirt and gravel. But Shah-tzi and Itoh were well-trained; they would not make a move unless their leader directed them to.

"Well?" Varlou demanded.

"Fine." Ginji's eyes narrowed. If that was the way they wanted it, so be it. He gripped the precious box in his gloved hands, slowly half-turned towards the greedy Itoh's outstretched fingers – then spun back around and flung the box as hard as he could into the semi's oncoming path.

"You dare!" screamed Varlou, along with the shrieks of his cohorts.

"That's how it is," Ginji said as he dusted off his hands and shed the ridiculous fringed vest Ban had made him wear. "We don't have it – you don't have it. Get Backers don't give up their targets."

He gestured to Ban. "You heard the man - _Mervin,"_Ginji added, and both Get Backers were unable to suppress a choked snicker at the tonal inflection this time.

"You – " Varlou's face turned ruddy. He swung a hand at the others. "Get it, you fools – ULFF!"

_And that's why Ginji's getting a dinner bonus, _Ban thought as his elbow connected cleanly with the Crasher's gut at the same time the other man lost his concentration over the weapon he'd held on Ban. When the hand full of sai moved, so did he, and so did Varlou, coughing as he lunged at Ban, summoning enough breath to scream at Shah-tzi and Itoh.

"Get the box, damn you!"

Both Crashers stayed firmly put, until Shah-tzi shoved Itoh forward. The pudgy man squeaked, not wanting to get run over by a giant truck but also equally afraid of disobeying his leader. He dove after the box, but Ginji had had the same idea, and the two tossed head over heels with fists flailing for the object.

Ban couldn't watch. His attention was all on not getting gored by an angry Yami Doko. He got in some good strikes, but it was difficult to tell how accurate the damage was since Varlou seemed to be everywhere, all at once, in his face. The creep had speed to match even Akabane's, and with the anti-Jagan sunglasses shielding his eyes, Ban couldn't take a chance on distracting him with that.

Ginji was faring only slightly better. He'd managed to wrest the box away from Itoh, only to get dragged backwards when he tried to scramble out of the fray. His first and foremost goal being to rescue the prize, Ginji didn't think to zap him with a bolt, or else the fight might have been decided quicker. As it was, Itoh was hammering him into the ground, pelting Ginji's shoulders with his nunchaku to make him let go of the box. Still Ginji struggled on. He'd beaten a better class of bastard than this, as Ban would say.

The semi-truck decided for them. Hot rubber screeching and metal protesting in a heavy groan made everyone look up and realize that some things were far more important than mystery deliveries. Like not getting pancaked by an irate transporter, who, as best as Ban could tell, was swatting the driver over the head with an oversized black hat in an ineffective attempt to make him stop in time.

He heard Varlou curse softly and before the other man could react Ban faked a maneuver, then punched him in the face to throw him off. The blow glanced off Varlou's cheekbone but it did crack the sunglasses – although they remained on his face. Ban passed up that opportunity and raced towards Ginji, but skidded to a halt when he saw how close the tread-kiss of doom was.

Ginji had seconds to notice it himself and even less time to pry, once more, the box out of Itoh's clutches. The Crasher looked up, saw his fate in shiny chrome, and let out a shriek loud enough to send bats scuttling as he promptly hurled himself off of Ginji and away from certain death. Ginji's body wind-milled across the path in a tornado of limbs as he pulled the box into his chest, and with it he rolled over and landed head-up just in time to feel a whoosh of hot air in his face and the feather-light bump of steaming rubber glance off the tip of his nose.

Ban released a low, loud whistle. "Damn, Maguruma's good!"

He shook himself, ran to pull his petrified bug-eyed partner out from underneath the front bumper and drag him, box and all, to the safety of their car. The Crashers were already going on the offensive and piling into their vehicle, minus the smoke trap Ban had had set. Behind them, Ban could hear Himiko pitching her usual fit, and had those two idiots even been able to get the stupid box in the first place? This was followed by a rumble of something that sounded like "Midou" and "blood" from Maguruma, which was swiftly replaced by Akabane's rising shout of "BLOOD?!"

"Guess it's time to get your grave on, Doko-dumbass," Ban muttered with a glance in Varlou's direction. Although he'd lost his crack at the stray scalpel, he couldn't wait to see Jackal carve this turkey up. Figuratively speaking, of course. He didn't bother to disguise the shiver of relief that had gone through him upon seeing that Akabane still had on the black gloves.

He threw Ginji and the box into the car, pushed them both aside and clambered into the vehicle. A quick twist of the key, little Ladybug buzzed alive, and they were shooting down the road with the Party Crashers close behind, and No-Brakes's semi hot after them.

Warlock duels always were a special hell, Ban reflected with a grimace as he swerved to avoid a jolt from behind by the Crashers' oncoming car. No wonder Akabane had wanted them to partner up for this job!

XXXXX

Akabane believed in the order of rules. Granted, he was content to follow them so long as they didn't interfere with his own interests, but by and large, structured design gave a meaning and purpose to his creative interpretations of those rules. One of those rules was that when they were in the truck, Maguruma was the one in full control. He was the driver, after all, and knew how best to handle his vehicle. Therefore no backseat driving was permitted.

But what are rules when something so much more important – more _fun_– is at stake?

Fun of course being defined differently for each person – Himiko was standing up in her seat, inasmuch as her hastily-buckled seat belt would allow, pointing at the rapidly diminishing cars ahead and yelling for Maguruma to catch up to them before the money was lost.

Akabane as always took note of his partner's displeasure and filed that away in its neatly-reserved compartment in his mind; namely, the one labeled insignificant distractions. Money was just a means to an end. To him, other prizes bore keener interest, and when he heard Maguruma mention something about Midou Ban being wounded, he bolted between his comrades and peered out the windshield at the chase. When he caught a glimpse of Ban's wild-eyed blue concentration, delight suffused his chest so that he was perfectly happy ignoring the fact that said retriever was busy trying to keep his car from getting run off the road by the pursuing enemy.

Then Akabane saw the trickle of red along Ban's neck that was staining the collar of his shirt, and his own divine design - along with his concern for Maguruma's rules - flew right out the window as a haze of similar red descended over his view.

"Get them, Gouzou! Speed up and run them down!"

Mr. No-Brakes was used to his comrades' eccentricities. He was also used to their peculiar requests and demands. One thing he refused to tolerate was being told how to drive his truck. Without taking his focus from the road he reached back with one big hand and swatted the squalling Akabane backwards. Seeing her partner swept aside like a gnat was enough to temporarily quiet Himiko.

Gouzou didn't look at either of them; he too was busy anticipating the enemy's maneuvers. "We're coming up on the split point," he said, ever the voice of calm in the maelstrom. "Midou's jockeying for position, but the plan still works. Anyway, Itoh Oil-Slick's buzzing too fast for me to get a clean fix on the Crasher car."

"Ban's all over the road just as much as they are!" Himiko let herself be pulled back into the seat by the fastened belt. "If he'd just go nitrous - "

"Didn't you say that it only gives them a three-minute gain?" Akabane said, dusting himself off and cautiously – a wary glance at Maguruma – creeping closer to her side. "That won't be enough deterrence. Itoh Narada can easily keep pace even at full strength fuel. This is our chance to pin them in from behind." He shot Maguruma a sterner look. "Don't you think, Gouzou? Your semi is more than a match for the Crashers' little pill box..."

"If I steamroll them I risk flattening the retrievers too," Maguruma pointed out. "I'd say the electro-kid's had his share of heart attacks for the evening. We'll need his current to fight off the Crashers once this party train does stop."

Akabane scowled. "Then allow me to assist you in that endeavor!"

Without waiting for a reply he made his way to the back of the cab and popped open the side door. One hand on hat, the other clutching the support bar, he leaned out into the wind to see what the two vehicles were doing now. A quick glance showed that the Get Backers' Subaru was still in the lead, but not by much. Varlou's candy-apple-red sportster was charging up the side once more as the Oil-Slick attempted a battering maneuver.

Akabane leaned back inside just as Himiko was coming to see what was going on. He took off one of the black gloves and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he removed his hat and handed it to her. "Would you be a dear and hold this for me for a moment, please?"

She took it with a curious expression, but said nothing as he leaned back out into the open again. Akabane raised his free hand and pointed it at the Crashers' car, singing softly to himself a gleefully evil little ditty. "I can see clearly now, the bloody rain has gone...!"

Four blazing points of blue light shot from between his spread fingers. Two pinged off of the back bumper, one lodged itself in the driver's side rearview mirror and the fourth speared right through the back window and continued its trajectory straight past the windshield, burying its spire in the back of the car ahead of it.

Akabane winced. "Sorry, Midou-kun."

Himiko shook her head. "You forgot the wind shear. Try a little lower." She took his arm with her free hand and adjusted his aim accordingly.

"Thank you." Akabane started to call forth the scalpels again, but before he could shoot off another round the Crashers responded with a volley of their own. Bullets danced off the side of the truck as Akabane yanked Himiko back inside the protection of the cab.

"I hate machine guns!" she snarled, untangling her legs from the tails of Akabane's coat.

"What about a nice bomb drop?" Akabane quickly peered out the open door; the Crashers were once more trying to play bumper cars with the Get Backers. "What sort of perfumes did you bring?"

Himiko fished through her harness and brought out a couple bottles. "I'd go with something non-lethal, just in case you accidentally hit Ban and Ginji again."

"What do you recommend?" Akabane studied the glittering potions.

"Either regression or corrosion scent will work, but regression will control the Crashers long enough for us to bail on them. That is, if you don't mind forgoing your grudge match with Varlou a little while longer..."

Akabane considered this. He could always double back and pick up the fight where it left off, after the others had escaped safely with the transport. "Regression it is, then."

She handed him the little bottle. Akabane pulled out a knife and began rummaging through the tools kit that Maguruma kept in the cab. He snipped off a piece of string from the roll he'd found and, with Himiko's help, tied the bottle securely to the scalpel. As a finishing touch, he ended the knot in a double bow tie.

"Presto. Instant surprise package."

"One of these days we've got to film this and stick it up on the internet," Himiko said.

Akabane's face brightened as he took his hat from her and replaced it on his head. "We should!"

He looked out the door. Both cars were neck-and-neck now, ping-ponging each other across the road. Akabane could see in the retrieval car where Ginji was trying to fire off an attack, but each time he poked his head up one of the Crashers – Jackal thought it looked like Shah-tzi – would take a shot at him.

"Enjoy your second childhood, tossers," Akabane said with a smirk, and pointed his finger at the Crasher car. The scalpel with its nasty present rose from his hand and flew forward as if shot from a cannon.

At the same time Shah-tzi was swiveling in her seat, raising her blow dart pipe to her lips. There was a tiny poof of smoke from the pipe's end as something small and thin exited, and then it met head-on with Akabane's scalpel-bomb. The explosion of glass was meager, but the billowing clouds of green gas rapidly expanding from its confines was proof enough that the attack had backfired badly.

Akabane and Himiko scrambled to get back into the cab. "Hold your breath!" Himiko shrieked and grasped for the antidote scent as a precaution, while Akabane covered his nose and mouth with one hand and slammed the door shut with his other. They could see out the side window as the poison perfume's noxious streams washed over the truck in flowing breezes that gradually ebbed into lesser trails, until the air was clear again.

Both transporters allowed themselves the release of mingled sighs. Their relief was short-lived, however, when the truck suddenly began to swerve and shudder, and it wasn't from skillful wheel manipulations.

Himiko plowed into the front cab and stopped short. "Shit!"

Akabane edged over her shoulder and saw what had prompted her outburst. Maguruma was still at the wheel, still handling the driving – but he was doing it with a ridiculously wide grin stretched over his roughened face, making burbling noises as he twisted and turned the steering wheel with none of the finesse that he was famous for. Akabane and Himiko were thrown about like toys as the truck veered over the road like a crazed centipede.

Himiko crashed into the console and was immediately squashed by a load of black coat falling onto her from behind. "Ow! Get off me, Jackal!"

"I might ask the same of you – oof! - Lady Poison!" Akabane yelped when the truck reversed course and sent him careening face-first into the nearest wall, with Himiko landing like a torpedo into his back.

They had to grab hold of whatever they could, a seat back, an armrest, to keep from getting knocked off their feet any more. Then Akabane looked up and saw the partially-cracked window next to Maguruma.

"Future reference, Himiko-san: no more open windows during bomb drops!" he muttered while she clambered over the seats to shove the opened antidote bottle in Gouzou's face.

"Ugh! Duly noted," she grunted, pressing the end of the bottle into the driver's flared nostrils while pulling back on the steering wheel to control the runaway truck. In seconds the effects were noticeable. Maguruma's eyes cleared, the goofy grin straightened out into a grim befuddlement, and he regained control of the steering, pulling the wheel back into alignment – all without ever touching the brake pedal.

Gouzou shuddered and shook his head. "What the hell was that?! One minute I'm tracking Party Crashers, the next I'm dreaming that I'm covered in smelly fur and gobbling bananas!"

"Sorry about that," Himiko said as she belted herself into the passenger seat. "Shah-tzi blew our attack back on us!"

Maguruma frowned. "That stuff gives me a headache! I'd rather take bullets than poison blasts."

_Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat! _A hailstorm of lead pelted the truck, but nothing entered the cab itself. The truck was specially outfitted with bulletproof materials.

Akabane sent his cohort a sour look. "Be careful what you wish for, Gouzou."

Another rattling as something else, too heavy and slow to be a bullet, bounced off the hood of the truck and landed on the ground. Then there was a bright flash of light and a rumble that rocked both road and truck.

"What was that?" Himiko gasped.

Maguruma glanced in his rearview mirror. "Grenade, I think."

"Well, isn't this a bit of a buggery?" Akabane said.

"It is if we time the blasts wrong," Maguruma pointed out, and increased his speed.

"There's the split-off point!" Himiko pointed at the windshield. Ahead were two roads. The second one was supposed to be the Get Backers' route; it would take them into the city where, presumably, they would have been able to lose their pursuers and meet up with the transporters, who would have stayed on the road they were currently following and rendezvous in a pincer maneuver to pick up their partners and their loot.

Instead, the Subaru suddenly swerved a hard left and sped down the exit ramp onto the first road.

Himiko couldn't believe her eyes. "What's he doing!?"

"Improvising...I suppose..." Akabane was likewise as puzzled, though not nearly as annoyed. This was an interesting turn of events, and who knew? It might grant him some unexpected entertainment... "Well, what are you waiting for, Gouzou? After them!"

Maguruma's lips thinned. A large foot stomped on the brake and the truck skidded to a halt. Akabane sailed into the windshield with a squeal and a muffled thump. Pushing his mashed hat up from his face, he turned over on his side and glared at the driver.

Gouzou was unrepentant. "Revised rules of the road: One, seat belts in the front are mandatory from now on. Two, what'd I tell you about backseat driving?"

"I wasn't - "

Maguruma held up a finger. "Who's sitting behind the wheel?"

"Maguruma!" Himiko groaned.

"Ah. Jackal?"

Akabane's stare hardened. "Don't make me stick you..."

"Who's sitting behind the wheel?" Maguruma, unfazed by the threat, crossed his arms and waited as the engine idled.

Realizing the futility of argument on this count, Akabane pulled himself upright and straightened his hat, growling quietly under his breath. "You are."

"And who's doing the driving?"

"You are."

"And what is the job of any and all passengers who ride in my vehicles?"

Akabane rolled his eyes and recited the answer. "Get in, sit down, shut up and hold on."

Maguruma raised an eyebrow. Thus chastened, an obedient if disgruntled Akabane slunk to the back of the cab without further comment, though he did direct a baleful glare backwards over his shoulder.

Satisfied that his automotive regime remained in power, Mr. No-Brakes turned his attention upon the expanse of horizon ahead. The truck shifted into gear again and lurched down the alternative route, after the Get Backers.

XXXXX

By his own admission Ban was a damned good driver. He'd dealt with all manner of traffic and road hazards, and usually managed to emerge without a (lot of) scraping. But that didn't mean that he enjoyed playing pizza-tag with an unusually persistent opponent. Particularly when that opponent was both the object of his ire and had a dismaying proficiency with firearms. And particularly when there were not one, not two, but three opponents with whom the Get Backers had an ax to grind, and those opponents were hellbent on turning his precious car into scrap metal using all the weaponry and dirty tricks they could throw at the little Ladybug.

"Ginji!" he howled as he jerked the wheel right, narrowly avoiding the latest burst of gunfire that threatened to pepper his side of the window.

"I'm trying, Ban-chan!" He was – it could never be said that Ginji Amano didn't hold up his end of the business – but the combination of fending off multiple attacks plus the constant rocking and rolling of the car's evasive actions was decidedly difficult for him to cope with. Ginji kept getting knocked off balance every time he tried to get a bead on a Crasher target, or had to duck out of range whenever one of them lobbed a poison dart or bullet at his head.

Throw in a few stray nicks from their fellow agents-in-arms – later, for sure, he was going to let Akabane have it for that knife still sticking out of the back of the car – and they had their hands full of trouble, never mind the original mission in the first place.

Ban risked a quick look at the box that he'd snatched from Ginji and stowed up front, on the floor on the passenger side. On that box rested the hope and fate of all his and Akabane's grand plans. No way was he going to let some two-bit transporters - "no offense, Jackal," he mumbled to himself – louse up this dreamsicle of a payday for him. Time to get serious about ditching these chumps.

Said transporters were catching up to their car again, the red sports car drawing even with the Subaru. Ban could see the driver, Oil-Slick Narada, giving him a mocking stare over the ends of his black sunglasses. He'd have tried for a Jagan at that point, but Narada was careful to keep his glasses just high enough so that Ban's eyes couldn't completely connect with his own. Bastard.

The passenger window of the Crasher car was down, and the ringleader Yami Doko Varlou leaned out of it and called to Ban over the rush of wind and thrumming engines. "Give it up, street rat! You can't outrun the Slick and you know it. So give us the item and maybe we'll let you live through this one, eh!"

"Live this, dirt-munchers!" Ban swung the car toward them, and when they swerved away to avoid the collision he jammed on the brakes, falling back so that the Crasher car sped ahead of them. He hit the gas and raced up behind them, intending to tap their bumper and send them into a tailspin, but the shower of explosive blow darts Shah-tzi spattered them with made him reconsider that idea.

"Hang on, Ban-chan, I got a charge for that!" Ginji squirmed-crawled into the front seat again, almost stomping on the transport box in the process.

"Idiot! Watch it!"

Ginji took no notice of the reprimand. He slouched down in the seat. "Catch up to them again!"

"Are you nuts!?" Ban snarled, sweeping away some of the gummy glass that had shattered over the dashboard when some of Shah-tzi's darts had struck the windshield. But he tromped on the pedal anyway, daring to kiss metal with metal this time.

Unsurprisingly the Crashers were prepared for this approach. But when Shah-tzi took aim at them a second time with her blow pipe, Ginji suddenly reared up and flung a sharp bolt of electricity out the hole in the Subaru's windshield. His aim was dead-on. The woman screamed and jolted backwards, hitting her shoulder against the side of the open window and losing her weapon as the painful spasms induced by the attack forced her to drop it.

"Fresh hit! Way to go, Ginji – woah crap!" Ban cut off his celebration as he realized that Shah-tzi wasn't completely disarmed. The angry transporter was quick to recover and whipped out a pistol from beneath her leather jacket. She squeezed off several rounds in short order, each one barking a sharp report, and Ban had all he could do to keep the car on the road and not get hit by any of the slugs.

Deciding that it was safer to take the lead in the chase he sped up again and swerved around the other car, gritting his teeth when the screech of metal echoed in his ears. He took grim satisfaction in the fact that Varlou was ranting as vigorously over the damage inflicted on his set of wheels as Ban would have about the scratches marring his.

"Ban-chaaaaan." Ginji's whine of alarm pricked his ears. "Yami Doko's gonna shoot at us again!"

Barely had he uttered the sentence than the earnest pelting of gunfire started up again. Ban swore loudly and hunched down in his seat, doing his best to steer clear of the spray. Varlou was firing indiscriminately, he realized. The man was so angered by what Ban had done to his car that he didn't care where he was aiming, so long as he hit something. An opportunity, Ban thought with a fanged grin.

"Hey, Ginji. Let's give these sleazebags something to really cry about."

Huddled on the floor of the car in an impossible ball, along with the box, Ginji only whimpered assent. Ban ignored him and swung the car sideways, banging the front bumper along the headlight of the other car. A pop of glass, and gratification surged in his chest as he saw in the rearview mirror the image of the head transporter's face turning a charming shade of purple over the busted light.

Ban cackled. "There's more where that came from!" He swung the car again, only briefly hesitating before muttering an apology to his beloved car. There was the pained grinding of abused metal, and when he retreated from the inevitable counterattack he could see a large chunk of paint missing from the dented side of the Crashers' car.

Varlou was going ballistic. He pounded his fist on the dashboard and belted the driver Narada in the back of his head. Shah-tzi was yelling at Varlou, shaking his arm and pointing at the Get Backers. While the Crashers argued amongst themselves, Ban charged the car again, scoring another dent in the side by the gas tank, and then a third strike to take out one panel of taillights for good measure.

Ban was laughing by this point. God, he loved this job, playing cosmic chicken with fate, always struggling to see who'd come out the best and whose nose would get rolled in the stink of failure. He couldn't help it; he knew he ought to be more careful, should remember that there was plenty of danger too in overconfidence, but the battle-thrill was in full fury now, and his juices were jazzed. When he was on fire, there was no stopping him. He launched another side attack, this time a near-T-bone into the car's side to send them skidding into the ditch.

He made the strike, all right, but the moment his car touched theirs Varlou leaned into the impact, the extra momentum allowing him to get close enough to Ban's open window to fling something small and roundish into the Subaru.

"Burn in hell, retriever rats!"

Ban had a ready retort for that, but a deafening squawk from Ginji distracted him. He looked down and icicles jabbed his veins when he saw just why his partner was freaking out. He didn't even need to scream Ginji's name before the latter was scrambling out from his hiding place and thrusting the pinecone-shaped grenade in record time out of his side of the car. Ban had just milliseconds to grab Ginji and pull him back down before the thing exploded and bits of gravel and asphalt nailed the car, and glass imploded all over them from the percussive effects of the blast.

The two retrievers cast numbed looks at each other. "You all right?" Ban said when he could finally find his voice.

Ginji did a rapid pat-down of himself, assuring that all body parts were correctly attached and in working order. "I think so. You?"

"Still here, buddy." Ban heard another thump and rattle and raised his head in time to see a second grenade spin and topple off the hood of the car. He hit the gas to the floor and missed the explosion that time, though the noise was still loud enough to make their ears throb uncomfortably.

"Fuck this shit," Ban snarled as he threw the car into a wild zigzag. The Crashers were coming after them now, Varlou smiling death as he plucked the pins from grenades and lobbed them by the pair at the Subaru. Ahead lay the road the Get Backers were supposed to take, the one that snaked into the city limits where they would have gone to ground to wait for their transporters to pick them up. Under the circumstances Ban didn't think that was a viable option now. They always had a chance of dodging bullets or blow darts, but all the fancy footwork in the world wouldn't matter if a grenade went off before they could outdistance it.

"Ginji – radio! Now!" While Ginji searched the car's jumbled debris for the device, Ban had a sudden inspiration. He pulled a hard left onto the first road, instead of the second, and floored the car all the way down the exit ramp.

"I can't find it, Ban-chan."

"Forget it. Watch those bastards for me and pop 'em if they try for another go." Ban hoped that No-Brakes would be smart enough to interpret his sudden switch in directions. He saw the semi lurch to a standstill behind as their allies doubtless tried to figure out what had gone wrong. _Bad choice of action, dude,_Ban thought. He'd sensed from the start that they all needed to keep moving; as bad as surprise grenades were, it was direct force that could be evaded, if not countermanded. Preventing Varlou from exercising his true power was paramount, and as long as they could hit and run without being cornered on their score, the golem-master wouldn't get a chance to deceive them.

He thought back to the pile of dirt he'd punched, thinking that the duplicate was the real thing, and getting a rude awakening when Varlou had trapped him with the sai blade. The mention of Akabane's missing scalpel should have been a warning, Ban realized, remembering the information Makubex had gathered for the Crashers' dossier. Now he knew just how Varlou had gotten the best of the Get Backers, Jackal and the others, and had neatly put the screws to every transporter between here and the Honshu mountains. It was near impossible to track down a man who was capable of producing and altering multiple decoys of himself.

But a new plan was bubbling together in his mind. If they couldn't outrun or outfight the Party Crashers, they were just going to have to outsmart them. Ban did some fast calculations of the current stretch of road they were on. If memory served him right, there was a large construction site several miles ahead. Some shipping magnate's new expansion or something. It was as good a place as any to make a grand stand.

"Hold on, Ginji – we're going nitrous!"

XXXXX

TBC


	54. Going For The Gold part 8

Title: Going For The Gold (ch. 8)  
Author: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #7 – "superstar"  
Rating: R (language)  
Warnings/Spoilers: None other than standard canon.  
Notes: Many thanks to you, wonderful readers. :)  
- I maintain mirror sites over on InsaneJournal and Dreamwidth (both same names as this one).  
Disclaimer: GB is not mine. We just play and have fun.  
- The Party Crashers are all OCs spawned by me (much to Akabane's and Ban's annoyances, lol).  
- Agdistis is an OC who belongs to the wonderful K**emurikat**; I mention him in honor of her. :)  
Summary: Ban and Akabane struggle to amass funding for their trip to Europe, efforts that receive an unexpected boost when old enemies cross paths with retrievers and transporters alike.

* * *

To be a good driver, one need only know the basics. To be an excellent driver, one must balance careful training with innovative judgment. Among the _hakobiya,_ Mr. No-Brakes was considered in a class of his own. He had in fact been contacted with numerous offers from the Shadow Elite, an international ring run by the oft-disparaged but much-feared Agdistis, perhaps the only man more mysterious than Doctor Jackal, Kuroudo Akabane himself.

Though he wasn't averse to taking a job from the syndicate every now and then, Maguruma preferred the stability of home turf, working with partners he had preferences for. He had once greatly amused Akabane by telling Agdistis that if the man could ever figure out what his price for membership would be, he'd sign on the dotted line that day. Agdistis wasn't used to being given the runaround; even less so, being told no. He never stopped trying to come up with deals he thought would entice Mr. No-Brakes into the fold.

Maguruma felt that driving was just like any other job. One needed to stay mentally sharp in order to perform to the best of ability. Having the capability to think on one's toes helped a lot, too, when courses could suddenly change and people did the unexpected. So when Midou Ban veered down an alternative route instead of plowing ahead with the previously-agreed-upon route, Gouzou only needed seconds to figure out what his temporary comrade-in-arms intended to do.

Ignoring his partners' disgruntled chatter, Maguruma increased speed to keep up behind the Party Crashers' car, which was fast being dusted by the Get Backers'. Thin plumes of white smoke were spewing from the little Subaru's tailpipe as the nitrous oxide put its power to good use. With the retrievers assured of escape, the rival transporters now had to contend with Gouzou's behemoth breathing down their backs.

Akabane was only too happy to provide them with the fight they – and he – so desired. He started to go for the rear cab's door, a pair of knives in hand once he'd removed one black glove, but Maguruma stopped him.

"Don't."

Akabane's lips thinned. "Why?"

"We want them to go after the retrievers." Maguruma held off the gas just enough to keep the Crasher car within sight. "Midou's up to something. He's leading them down a closed circuit. It's part of a huge industrial park. There's no way out of there until they complete the new stack link to the interchange at the end of it. You'd have to drive all the way back this way and get on the main road, where we were supposed to go."

"Then he's trying for a confrontation? But that's insane!" Himiko slapped a fist on her thigh. "I know he and Ginji aren't lightweights but we're talking three against two, plus there's Varlou's golems! If Ban gets distracted or flubs the Evil Eye, they're done."

"Still, I do not think that they would fall so easily to parlour tricks." Akabane's eyes fixed on her, keen as a lance. "Even accounting for something of an arcane nature, Midou-kun is well-versed in such subjects. I did highlight that notation in Makubex-kun's dossier on the Crashers, after all."

"Golems aren't so easily disposed of though." Himiko made a face. "I don't know whether Ban's aware of that or not. His specialty was mostly European arcane."

"I know that the proxies have to be deactivated a particular way," Akabane said, replacing the scalpels he'd been clutching. "But surely the ones Varlou creates fall under the same rules as the traditional ones. Even the supernatural has its laws."

"Not necessarily. This is Varlou..." The two transporters exchanged looks, before Himiko went on. "And if he bargained with Agdistis, we've got our work cut out for us."

Akabane made an irritable little sigh. "Dear old Aggie. I really am going to have to have a talk with him one of these days."

"Keep your hat on," Maguruma advised. "If Midou does what I think he's planning to do, a fight won't be necessary. We can still pull off the hookup, it'll just have to factor in the interchange, is all." His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror and caught Akabane's. "Pull up the GPS and find me a side road. There's got to be a trail or two where construction crews enter and exit."

Akabane put his glove back on and dug out his phone from a coat pocket. "What if I want a fight? I have to get something out of this romp, don't I?"

"Europe," Himiko prompted.

Akabane scowled. But he scrolled through the listings on his phone without further comment. When the phone burbled at him, he said to it, "Request alternative route adjacent to current map."

The phone's reply was immediate. _"I'm sorry, doctor. Instruction not verified. Please try again,"_ it chirped in a perky tone.

Akabane frowned and tried again. "Request secondary route."

_"I'm sorry, doctor. Instruction unclear. Please try again."_

Akabane's lip curled and he shook the phone slightly. "I thought I had Makubex fine-tune this thing." He held the phone up again and spoke to it. "Request new route within a 5-mile radius."

_"I'm sorry, doctor. Instruction lacks specification. Please try again."_

"How about you try a nice filleting with my scalpel, you wretched device?" Akabane snapped at it.

_"Command not in database. Cursing is unnecessary, doctor,"_ the prim little voice retorted.

Akabane shook the thing harder, his free fist clenched around emptiness that normally would have been full of scalpels at this point, no thanks to the knife-resistant gloves. "Oh, you haven't even begun to hear cursing, you foul little piece of - "

_"Abrasive language is uncalled-for, doctor - "_

Himiko's loud sigh filled the air. "Here," she said, not waiting for an answer as she grabbed the phone and spared it the messy end Akabane intended to inflict. In less than a minute she'd succeeded in finding the side road Maguruma required, the details of which she quickly relayed before handing the maligned phone back to its owner.

"Well, how difficult is it to locate a simple route marker?" Akabane was in full sulk now. "Bloody stupid technology. Even computers have attitudes now!"

Maguruma paid him no mind as he watched the road for the turnoff Himiko had dictated, while keeping the Crashers' car in check. They seemed preoccupied with chasing their prey, the retrievers, so he let his pace lag some more. It wasn't long before a smaller road appeared out of the brush on his right side. It curved around a bend of trees and disappeared beyond a hill of bulldozed earth. Maguruma looked again to make sure their rivals were focused elsewhere, then swung the steering wheel.

Himiko looked up from the radio she'd been using to try to contact Ban, with no success. "We're losing sight of them," she said as they saw the two cars, one of them ridiculously far ahead, racing to be the first to the ground zero.

"It's okay," Maguruma assured her. "This road will lead us right out to the spot they should peak at. That interchange is the only point they could come to without doubling back. And unless Midou's car can sprout wings, there's no other way off that stack's exit ramp."

"They'll be trapped, then. They'll have to get out and fight, if they don't want the Oil-Slick to run them right off into oblivion," Akabane pointed out.

"No, they won't," Gouzou told him with a grin. "When the moment calls, we'll be right there to catch them!"

* * *

Ban was counting down the minutes in his head while he steered, trying to time what was left of his nitrous before they lost the precious lead they needed on the Party Crashers. He caught sight of the big semi as it swooped away from the chase and disappeared around a bend. "Come on, No-Brakes, make me proud," he muttered as he gripped the wheel, wind whistling past his ears. The Subaru was touchier to steer when hopped up on superfuel.

"What was that, Ban-chan?"

"Nothing." Ban reconsidered. Keeping Ginji distracted sufficiently was also an important part of the job. More than anything else, his partner was rattled by Ban's silences – if _he_ was worried, Ginji figured, the situation was dire indeed.

He spoke now, both to reassure the other and caution him against underestimating their opponents. "Okay. You know what a doppelganger is?"

"German...something, isn't it?" Ginji eased up in his seat a little, calming now that he understood they had some time and the Party Crashers were well out of grenade-tossing range.

"It is German. 'Double-walker.' It means a duplicate," Ban explained, scanning the road for available options. He needed to make this as close with No-Brakes as possible for his idea to work. "In ancient times they were considered spirit doubles of a person, said to represent misfortune. Nowadays 'doppelganger' is just used to mean somebody's twin, a lookalike whose physical form is so close to the original that the resemblance is uncanny." He decided not to mention that doppelgangers were also considered harbingers of death.

The car shuddered a little as Ban took them up a winding incline. Minute and a half to go.

"That's how this guy Varlou scams all his rivals. A golem," Ban said, hoping that that knocking he heard under the Ladybug's hood wasn't what he suspected, "is a double, shaped from any substance, but usually earth-sourced, and given a person's form. But it doesn't do anything until it's told to by whoever makes it."

Ginji wrinkled his brows. "Like a robot? No," he said, suddenly snapping his fingers. "A zombie!"

"Not quite. Robots and zombies can't operate with human deviation. What I mean is, a golem will have its maker's exact personality in addition to his bodily shape," Ban explained. "If I took a lump of clay and made a duplicate of myself out of it, it wouldn't hurt you because it has no life energy to it. But if I invoked a spell to animate it, make it move and speak, it would behave exactly the same way I do in real life."

Ginji paled. "Even with the Snakebite? The Jagan?"

"Yeah."

They sat in silence for a few seconds, and then Ginji said, "Oh shit."

"No shit."

The engine pinged loudly, and Ban squeezed the wheel. Less than a minute before their speed gave out. He wound the car as close as he dared through the loops of half-constructed highway, trying not to get hung up on the rubber safety cones or pancaked by the concrete blockades.

"There's a way to stop them. But it has to be done a certain way, and it can only be done by somebody who knows what counter-spell to use. And you have to take out the golem-master to prevent any more of the damn things from piling up on you. Otherwise he can just call out more. That's how Yami Doko stiffed us, remember? We got stuck chasing his demented twin while the real Varlou escaped with the goods and cost us our fee. I'd bet my grandma's crusty eyeteeth he's pulled the same deal with the transporters."

"But you know how to stop the Party Crashers from doing that, right, Ban-chan? You've got the witch blood, don't you?"

"I can do it," Ban agreed, gritting his teeth against a hairpin curve. "But I'd need to hit Varlou with a Jagan first, and the bozo won't stand still long enough for me to get a bead on him. Besides, I don't think you made any friends back there with those other two."

"Yeah. Shah-tzi looked pretty mad when I blasted her dart-pipe out of her hand," Ginji said, blanching at the thought of having to confront the angry pistol-packing transporter again. "They know now to stay away from me."

"Exactly." The engine pinged again, sharper this time. "Gotta wind her down now before we blow," Ban said, flicking the nitrous switch to its dormant setting. There was a lull and then a soft, low wheeze as the engine powered back to normal. "We've got leeway, we should be okay as long as we keep moving. That won't give Varlou a chance to work his conjures. I just hope No-Brakes catches up with us before the Crashers do."

Ginji scratched his knee where a stray sliver of glass from the shattered windshield had fallen and was tickling his skin. "Where did Maguruma-san and the others go? Did Akabane-san want to go after the Party Crashers for his fight?"

"You'll see soon enough," Ban said. "Maguruma said he doesn't need roads where he'd be going. That route they took behind us turns to gravel, and after that dirt. But it eventually comes back to this unfinished interchange, and there's only one way off this platform," he said as they charged up another incline, steeper than before.

* * *

Betty, as the semi-truck had been affectionately christened by its driver some time ago, was every bit as capable handling on dirt roads as she was most any other surface. Still, Maguruma appreciated the smoothness of level pavement, as the transporters bounced and shuddered along the debris-strewn dips and potholes.

"When is this going to get good?" Akabane complained. He was taking the worst of it, attempting to keep his hat in place with one hand while struggling to hold onto his seat in the back of the cab.

"Right now," Gouzou said. "Want to do me a favor and go open up the trailer doors?"

Akabane shot him an incredulous glare. "I suppose stopping for this chore is out of the question?"

"You know me. No brakes." The driver grinned at him again. "You're the one with the catlike reflexes and claws..."

Akabane gave an aggrieved sigh. "I _will_ have my pound of flesh from you for this," he griped before removing his hat and handing it to Himiko. "Will you be a dear and look after this for me, please?"

* * *

The Ladybug broke even with a stretch of long pavement that brought them to the top of the interchange's stacked ramps. Ban spotted a flash of gray-silver far below that was running near the same speed they were and felt his gut uncoil in gratitude. No-Brakes deserved his reputation, all right.

Ginji shielded his eyes with a hand as he squinted through the ruined windshield, looking at the construction. "Hey, what's that black curtain on the top of Maguruma-san's truck – ohhh," he finished, putting a hand over his mouth. "Why's Akabane-san up there?"

Ban wasn't watching his Jackal clamber along the semi's trailer and unhitch its doors with a swipe of blue-tinted knife. He was seeing Himiko lean out the passenger window and point at him. She was yelling something, but he couldn't catch what over the rush of wind and the vehicular noise – and then the drill of bullets slamming into concrete made him skid across the highway, swearing blue vengeance.

The red car closed fast in spite of its crumpled front end. Evidently Varlou had decided that the risk of damage to his showmobile was worth the risk of letting valuable quarry get away. The Party Crashers had somehow figured out a way to hop the second set of ramps, scoot over the top of an office building's skeleton nearby, and skip a grade separation. Ban thought there must have been a loose barrier or two somewhere for them to have been able to catch up so soon.

Not that it mattered how, since Shah-tzi was aiming the muzzle at the Get Backers and she had a clear line of fire. Ban did his best to spoil that, weaving as wildly as he dared without getting shot while the machine gun spat and sputtered its fury. A hard poke in his side made him think that one of the slugs had tagged him, but when he reached down to feel for blood, only another hand met his.

Ginji didn't care about the trio of transporters trying to turn them into Swiss cheese. He did however care very much about the end ahead where the ramp abruptly broke off into wide open space, which he forced Ban's attention to with a wordless wail and frantically jabbing finger.

"Oh greeeeaaaaat," Ban groaned. Nothing like push coming to shove..!

More gunfire, pelting around them like vengeful hail, and the bang of shells lodging in metal. Too close. Not the tires, please God no, or they were dead. Varlou stuck his head out the window again, and he wasn't alone. The suspicious gleam of green pinecone was snug in his fist.

"Give it up now, Get Backers! It's trial by fire or death by ground-diving, your choice unless you give us that transport!"

Ban leaned out his own window, risking a brain-scrambling from Shah-tzi's weapon, and hollered back at Yami Doko, "Kiss my brown-eyed ass, Yami dickhead!"

"BAN-CHAAAAN!"

Ginji's screech made him look to the other window where his partner was now pointing to the bottom of the interchange. Ginji had finally spotted the trio of transporters that were on their side, but their appearance did nothing to ease his fright, considering why they were down there and the retrievers were up here.

"Ban-chan, the trailer doors are open, the transporters – Maguruma – he doesn't mean - !"

"Oh yes he does," Ban growled, his lips twisting into a grimace. Time to gamble with fate and find out who came up snake eyes. "Buckle your belt, Ginji, we're going in for a landing!"

* * *

TBC


	55. Going For The Gold part 9

Akabane dug his knives into the roof of the semi trailer to keep his balance when he felt the vehicle beneath him surge. With only one hand free for purchase at the moment, it barely occurred to him to wonder why Maguruma had suddenly put on a burst of speed – though he did spare a moment to wonder if perhaps he shouldn't have also left his coat in Himiko's care. The bumpy ride was bad enough; the wind resistance from billowing tails of fabric was making it twice as difficult for him to maintain a safe perch at the back of the truck.

He could have unsheathed his other hand and had more knives to work with. Briefly he considered doing so. But tempting fate was probably a bad idea at this point. Maguruma's speed wasn't the only thing fast rising. Akabane had felt the dark tide within swell when he'd removed a black glove earlier to cast attacks at the enemy. The promise he'd made to Ban foremost in his thoughts, he clenched his teeth and half-crawled half-wriggled along the top of the trailer until he was no longer in danger of being pitched off the end.

A scream from the cab's open window, quickly followed by the unmistakable clatter of gunfire overhead, made him look up. Far above on the interchange, two cars were charging over the pavement, each trying to outrace or outgun the other. For a second Akabane was confused; why had the Get Backers taken the battle to the inescapable terrain of an unfinished construction project? His breath caught in his throat as he understood what his purpose was in being up here, now, and Gouzou's words echoed in his thoughts: _We'll be there to catch them when the moment's right._

Suddenly Akabane realized with a shiver what the drivers of both teams intended.

He pounded the trailer roof with a black-clad fist. "Are you bleeding mad, Gouzou!?" Not waiting for a reply of any sort – as if Maguruma would have cared anyway, even if he had heard – Akabane spun on hands and knees and watched with an unfamiliar tension squeezing his chest almost painfully, coiling in the pit of his belly as the Subaru in the lead suddenly took on an impossible burst of speed -

"Oh, no! No, no, Midou-kun, no - "

Akabane could do nothing except watch the little car barrel straight for the dead-end drop of the unfinished ramp.

* * *

Cliff-diving, whether actual or metaphorical, is purely instinctual. You either go with the gut challenge and find a way to roll with whatever comes of it, or you choke and face-plant.

In spite of real looming death Ban had no intention of abruptly finishing his glorious career at the end of this road, at the incompetent hands of the Party Crashers. He was the greatest retriever that ever lived. He had a reputation to uphold. Stuck between two sides of a shit sandwich, what else was he to do? Less than five hundred feet lay between him and his fate.

"The hell you are, Midou!" Varlou-Doko-Mervin roared, his face white with disbelief.

_Hell yeah, you wish you could be this epic!_ Ban thought. He chose immortality and slammed his foot on the gas pedal at the same time he reached up and punched the nitrous button.

Ginji's eyes fairly bulged in his head. "BAN-CHAN!"

"No guts, no glory, Ginji!"

Ginji would have helpfully pointed out what theirs were currently in danger of becoming when Ban turned his head and locked their eyes. He recognized that maniacal steel-blue edge. Not just their lives, but their legend was on the line here. No matter what came, they were in it together, all the way, never turning back.

Such is the cursed fate of those who call themselves Get Backers.

Ginji swallowed the lump of a ripe screech ready to erupt and resigned himself to what must happen. With only two hundred feet to go, he reached over Ban and pulled on the safety harness's strap, clicking it into place before securing his own. He popped the glovebox's door and took out a small gold chain laden with several objects, including a miniature horseshoe decorated with silver sparkles that Natsumi had once given them. Neither he nor Ban was particularly superstitious, but it never hurt to keep extra backup for crunch times.

He passed the chain to Ban, who shoved it between his teeth, ignoring the tickle of fur from the rabbit's foot that hung between the four-leaf clover charm and the buoyant-faced Buddha one. "Together!" he grunted, gripping the steering wheel with one hand and clutching Ginji's hand with his other, shaking both their fists aloft.

"Forever!" Ginji agreed, squeezing his partner's hand back, hoping he sounded as confident as Ban appeared and regretting all the times he'd ever passed up free food in his lifetime, as he used his other hand to cross himself in a funny way that he'd once seen Akabane's mother do right before a dinner.

One hundred feet evaporating, fifty -

- the Party Crashers' candy-apple-red car squealed and ground to a halt, its occupants purple-faced with thwarted rage that they directed in various rants to the endless expanse of air surrounding them -

- twenty feet and a thunderclap as a chunk of white metal went flying when the Ladybug's belabored engine belched a cloud of content that no car engine should ever produce, the nitrous system having at last spent its final fury in fire and smoke, and in his heart's instant seize where nothing but silence and stillness ruled, Ban looked down and saw not empty chasm underneath him, only the glint of violet eyes spearing his, and he followed that beacon all the way into the gulf -

* * *

Action. Action was the one thing Himiko knew how to do best, action informed by sensible forethought and propelled by a steady authority, but stuck here, in the passenger side of the semi-truck, there was nothing she could do but watch the little white Subaru above spit its last gasp of nitrous in a flash of black-dusted orange and white -

A slight cough from beside her. "Brace yourself," Maguruma mildly advised. His concentration was still fixed on the road, and she didn't dare take her gaze from the Get Backers' inevitable rocket, or else she would have caught a flicker of motion in the rearview mirror that meant he too was keeping their allies in the corner of his eye -

* * *

Akabane wasn't aware that he'd fallen to his stomach on top of the trailer. Time and space no longer existed and he forgot the rush of wind beating at his back and flinging his hair into his face. He didn't hear the enemy car screaming to a stop before the plunge, or the blast that heralded the demise of the overtaxed nitrous fuel system. All that filled his head was the war beat of blood at the sight of his beloved and his beloved's partner making their leap of faith from world's end in the name of honor, wealth, and of course, the time-honored tradition of stubborn pride.

The little car froze almost motionless in the sky. Then as if tipped by a playful unseen finger, its front end tilted downward and the vehicle arced a nearly perfect curve for the ground, an Olympian diver girded in metal instead of flesh, though the windshield's glare gave way to clarity within that revealed two components decidedly non-metallic in origin. One of them looked directly at him, a side of his mouth cocked lopsidedly into an ever-familiar and endearing dare of a grin that always and forever would thrill the Jackal who basked in its light.

Electric blue was all that Akabane saw, and in the space of a heartbeat's kiss apart he unconsciously fell back to the petitions of his youth, uttering a soft cry in the oldest of Egyptian dialects.

"Dear Heru, give them wings!"

Who is to say that prayers are not carried along on the gusts of a hope unspoken? Who can claim with any evidence that the universe does not work in divine pattern or turn at the behest of a will strong enough to face headlong into its unfathomable eternities? Especially when that fate is taken hand in hand with fellow travelers united at the strange highways of life...

The car flew through sky like an arrow shot straight from Orion's own prized bow. At the same instant the truck shifted with seamless precision, and the divine design of synchronized paths carried Ban Midou and Ginji Amano right towards Akabane.

He had scarcely breath or concern for other matters, so his slackening grasp on the trailer's roof went unnoticed, his scalpels sliding free of the metal. He was nearly bounced from the roof at the impact, when the Subaru plowed right inside the opened trailer, as neat as any pin bolted into place. Akabane went skidding, not quite overboard but managed to avoid a rather messy tumble by gouging his knives into the trailer's side, arresting his fall.

He held on through the shudders of the truck as it bore the shock wave, until Gouzou was able to get it stabilized and eventually slowed. The great beast trembled to a stop and as soon as it did Akabane was dropping to the ground and scurrying for the back end. Two truck doors shot open and Himiko and Maguruma were right behind him.

Enough light was available inside the trailer for them to see that aside from its injuries sustained in the line of duty, the Subaru was mostly intact, though Maguruma was bound to be displeased with what had been done to the trailer floor. At the point of touchdown one of the wheels had torn off, resulting in vivid gouges when the car burrowed its way inside.

None of this mattered to Akabane. He climbed into the trailer and onto the Subaru, using a scalpel to peel open its sunroof with no more effort than it took to dispose of an orange rind.

"Midou-kun!"

Surprisingly it was Ginji who was first to open his eyes. He slowly unwound himself from a quivering mass of gelatin that was glomped onto Ban and carefully peered around, blinking. "Ban-chan?" His voice was a scratchy whimper. "I think we didn't get dead..."

A pair of blue eyes pried themselves open one at a time. It took Ban some doing to unclench his teeth from around the good-luck chain, and it rolled with a tinkling sound into his lap. He realized he'd bitten the damn thing all the way through. He looked at Ginji, who looked at him, and all they could think to do was break into a series of weak giggles.

"We didn't get dead. How about that," Ban confirmed, then laughed harder.

Encouraged, Ginji's snuffles grew into chuckles, shared by his partner, and those mushrooming into louder peals of amused relief, until both retrievers were howling hysterics.

Before they could wallow any longer in their wild success hands swooped in through the open sunroof and yanked at them, snapping apart the seat belts. Ban ignored Ginji's yelps as they were dragged from the car and started to swat at the claws knotted in his clothes, intent on roughing him up further, before he realized these were friend, not foe. By that time a pair of lips landed firmly on his, effectively silencing the cascade of swear words that had begun to pile up on his tongue.

"Hey! Can I have one of those – _ooff!_ I was just joking, Himiko-chan!" Ginji complained as he rubbed his stomach from where she'd just slugged him.

"Amateurs make jokes!" Himiko snarled. "You could have turned over the transport to us first before you were about to turn yourselves into road pizza!"

Ban had a ready retort for that, except his mouth was otherwise engaged with Akabane's. The transporter was gripping his shirt ferociously, thoroughly engrossed in his current task, which suited Ban just fine. They paused to break apart for air and he smiled at his Jackal, expecting the standard congratulatory purr for his achievement. The adoring smile Akabane bestowed upon him might have indicated such, until that angelic expression swiftly turned to stone. Next thing Ban knew his face was full of fist instead of warm hungry lips.

"What the hell's your problem?!" he yelled when he'd recovered from the punch, unsure of which hurt more, his jaw or the back of his head from where he'd been knocked into the trailer wall.

Simmering with indignation, Akabane vent his wrath in visible upset, albeit muted as he unleashed his reproach. "That was for being so utterly foolish and putting yourselves in mortal danger! You're supposed to do that with me!" he huffed.

"Next time I'll be sure you're the one who gets to skydive minus the parachute," Ban snapped.

The Jackal was unamused. "You know that's not what I meant!"

Gouzou slapped Ban on the back. "Way to go, Midou! That was the ballsiest drive I've ever seen. Next to myself, of course."

"Thanks, man. Coming from a hard-ass like you, that means something." Ban found he could still form a grin at the wry praise, with his sore jaw.

Maguruma nudged Akabane. "He could just about make Shadow Elite with that skill. Maybe we should give 'ol Sunshine a call, eh? It would get him off my back for once..."

"Too bad. You can just deal with that on your own." Akabane's nose wrinkled. "Agdistis is entertaining enough, but I refuse to subject anything of mine to his not-so-tender mercies. Midou-kun would be eaten alive in two seconds if left alone with the likes of him!"

"'Scuse me? I just did a hundred-plus kilometer nose-jump off a friggin' overpass. I think I can handle any two-bit transporter that wants to mess with me," Ban declared.

"About as well as you seem to have handled the Party Crashers?" Akabane said with a flicker of disapproval at the bloodstains dotting Ban's shirt. "I warned you. Never underestimate your prey."

"Speak for yourself." Ban noticed something. "I just took a cheap shot from you, Doctor Death. You're missing a failsafe," he said with a pointed look at Akabane's bare hand.

"Not at all. I purposely hit you with the good one," Akabane said with a wicked flash of fang, holding up his other hand that was still sheathed in the black glove and flexing the fingers, before taking the glove's mate from his pocket and returning it to its proper placement over the unguarded palm.

"Remind me again why I put up with you," Ban muttered.

"Gladly." And Akabane was upon him again before he had a chance to react, nearly smothering him against the side of the Subaru as he gathered both Ban and Ginji to him and lavished affections on the two of them.

"Oh, my darlings! My wonderful, brave Get Backers! I'm so glad you made it safely to us! Whatever would I do without you?" Akabane drew back momentarily and regarded them with what could only be a benediction of sorts, his eyes alight with rich plum delight.

Ginji sagged against the ruined car, too dazed by his and Ban's impromptu trip and the onslaught of Jackal-kisses to even consider beating a hasty retreat somewhere less emotionally-charged. "Gee, Akabane-san...you were worried about us?" he marveled, a feat that until now had been purported to be on the level of swine going airborne of their own volition, or the lowermost depths of metaphysical infernos turning to solid ice.

The transporter directed a stern glower at him. "Do I not keep watch over you, Ginji-kun? Of course I cannot help but fret when you and Midou-kun behave so recklessly!" Akabane scolded with gentle undertones, before melting into a furl of black trenchcoat around them again.

"Aww...well...that's...something, I guess," Ginji mumbled from his spot in the embrace, where his head had been tucked snugly against Akabane's shoulder.

Ban, who was trapped near the other, blew a snort of air from his nose and opened his mouth to make a crack about finding homicidal urges rather than sentimental mush easier to deal with from aggravating transporters. Then he saw what Himiko was squirreling out of his car. "Hey! Feet off the upholstery! Do you mind?"

"Someone has to be a pro around here," Himiko said, taking her time to tread on the headrest of the driver's seat as she hauled the transport box out of the car. "If we don't get going dirty seats are going to be the least of your worries, remember?" She cast a look at the poor abused vehicle. "How'd you even manage with that bum wheel?"

"I'm just that good," Ban said as they filed out of the trailer with the box in tow, Akabane stuck to his side like an embedded thorn.

"We blew out the original and the spare!" Ginji said.

"Not to mention the nitrous," Akabane said.

"Fuck it. Our paycheck will cover any repairs for the damage, and we'll still have plenty left over for Europe," Ban sighed and looked at Maguruma. "You better have some serious air freshener in that cab, because I'm not riding anywhere else while I have a cigarette. I've earned it."

"I don't even let Jackal change the radio station when he rides with me. What makes you think I'm allowing your stink bombs?" But Mr. No-Brakes said nothing further when Ban readied a cigarette anyway – mainly because his interest had been caught by another detail.

"What the hell! Jackal, I told you to open the damn doors, not cut them off completely!" Maguruma looked positively apoplectic at his cohort.

Akabane refused to be cowed. "Your pardon. You were unavailable for consultation and the situation required immediate action as per your request. Besides, you have insurance, don't you?"

Maguruma's breath exploded in wordless bluster. He threw up his hands and stalked back to the cab, shaking his head.

Himiko raised a brow at Jackal, then Ban. She looked almost like she was going to smile just then. Instead she likewise shook her head and carried the transport box back to her side of the cab, Ginji shrugging as he chose to follow her, after he figured he was innocent enough that he would probably be spared any of the ensuing strife.

Ban and Akabane looked at each other while the former took a long draw on the white stick of smoldering paper and tobacco in his mouth. "Fuck it," Ban said again, exhaling a lazy stream of vapors.

Akabane frowned. "Do you think it's all right?"

"Trust me. A big fat bank is the perfect anesthetic for any battle casualty. Even vehicular ones."

As if in agreement, a pained groan of something mechanical echoed from inside the trailer. They stepped closer to look once more at the still-steaming junker that had so recently raced its way to victory.

"You are taking the attack on your car awfully well, I must admit," Akabane said, curiosity pinching his face.

Ban nodded. "She put up her best fight yet." He stood in formal pose, lifting a sideways palm to his forehead. "Have no fear, my sweet beetle beauty. Thanks to this payday, you'll be up and running good as new in no time. I'll even spring for some custom trim like I always said I would. Till then, rest well. Your valiant sacrifice will be sung of for ages to come, and all shall know of the heroic little Subaru that could." He saluted sharply and turned to walk away.

"What about Gouzou? I really wouldn't have damaged his truck like that, you know, if it weren't for...well..." Akabane's lips half-twisted upward and he made a conciliatory gesture.

Cheerful dismissal rent the air. "Fuck it!" Ban replied without a backwards glance.

Akabane considered this. He tipped his head and smiled suddenly. "You're right. Sod it. Sod it all!"

Reassured now that he had decided his cohort's vengeance was worth this mission's triumph, given what was at stake, and pleased to be able to file away the insignificant speck of protocol breach in the recesses of his memory, he trotted off contentedly after Ban, plotting dreams of all the pleasures they would share when they got to Europe.

Neither man was aware of the coalescing grime that was spilling out of one of the Ladybug's nooks - or its shape slipping a suspiciously humanoid appendage around the opened exit of the trailer.

* * *

"Let's open it!"

All eyes save for Maguruma's landed on Ginji. He blinked owlishly at the decidedly disapproving looks. "What? Don't you want to know what's in there? I mean, after all that we went through to get it..."

The transport box sat on the seat in the back of the lorry, strapped in place by several cords Himiko had tied it down with. Ginji patted it as though it were a beloved child he was inordinately proud of. "I bet it's something really valuable. Something like gold, or jewelry, or - " He snapped his fingers. "Platinum!"

"I thought we agreed never to talk about that again," Ban grumbled as he sucked greedily on his fast-dwindling cigarette. Platinum brought up memories he'd just as soon as have left in the dust of the past. "Anyway, who gives a shit. We got it, the client's gonna get it, and we get our money. That's the important part."

"Ban-chan." Ginji shot him a glower. "We jumped off a bridge for this. We should get to know exactly what we risked our lives for, don't you think?"

"That depends," Maguruma spoke from the driver's seat. "You know what they say about curiosity and the cat, kid!"

"Maguruma's right," Himiko said, turning around in her seat to pin Ginji with a look that seemed to suggest he had committed blasphemy by suggesting that they breach the box's contents. "There are rules for transporting. Remember what we told Paul Wan? 'Don't open the package.' It's none of our business what's in there; our job is just to move the thing." She gave a haughty sniff.

Ginji scowled. His fingers twitched as if he were contemplating breaking open the box anyway. "We. Jumped off. A bridge. For it."

Ban reached out and swatted at him. "We survived, didn't we? Get over it."

Sparks puffed from the ends of Ginji's hair and his scowl curdled further. "Ban-chan. We. Jumped. Off. A. Bridge! For. This!" He squeaked suddenly as an instrument tapped his head, and the mushrooming electrical current winked out just like someone had thrown a switch.

Akabane smirked as he withdrew the scalpel. "And you thought hybrid knives were useless," he said to Ban.

Ban gave a grudgingly appreciative grunt. "Not bad, Jackal."

Ginji looked from one man to the other, his brow scrunched in confusion. "Hybrid knives?"

"Akabane can make scalpels from multiple materials now," Ban told him.

Ginji's eyes turned to saucers. "I thought you could already do that," he mumbled to Akabane, who smiled at him.

"Surprise, Ginji-kun."

The transporter pulled forth another knife and held it up. "I can now fuse two or more source bases together to form a single blade." Akabane took the scalpel between two fingers and bent the thing nearly double before releasing it. It sprang back into its original shape and he caught it, handle end up. "A rubber-ceramic blade may perform intricate operations as necessary, while also serving as a helpful static discharger to safely disperse unwelcome energies." He looked quite pleased with himself.

Ginji was not as thrilled. His face took on a sickly half-grimace as he said, "Meaning...my electricity's not gonna work so well on you anymore, is it?"

Akabane's eyes twinkled and he leaned closer. "Meaning, if you ever try that blood-boiling microwave trick on me again like you did when we fought in Mugenjou, you're going to find out precisely what a hemicorporectomy entails." His grin was sharp enough to split matter on its own without any help from his weapons.

Ginji didn't need details. He'd thumbed through some of the medical tomes that the transporter kept at home. "That's what I figured," he groaned, and wisely moved back from the mystery box while Akabane put away his scalpel and slipped his black gloves on again.

Content now that he had asserted his prowess, Akabane focused on Ban. "Speaking of pointed toys, I don't suppose you were ever able to reclaim a particular one of mine?"

Ban shook his head. "Creep got the drop on me before I could grab it. Sorry."

Akabane's lips curved into a moue of disappointment. "You promised, Midou-kun!"

"I also promised myself I wouldn't let a scumbag like Yami Varlou think he could cakewalk so easily over me," Ban retorted, fingering the dried blood on his neck from where their rival had nicked him with the sai. "You got me and you got the transport. Two out of three's not bad, you know."

Akabane mulled this over. "I suppose so. But I still would have liked my blade back," he pouted. "Lucky scalpels don't just fall out of the sky every day."

"Lucky scalpel? You have over a hundred of the damn things, why limit yourself to just one?" Ban snorted.

"Because it's a lucky one," Akabane growled. "Every time I've ever used it, the job was always perfect, regardless of what type of mission it was. Surgery, transporting – everything always went exactly as it was supposed to. That knife had a success rate equal to, even above, that of your retrieval reputation," he finished archly.

"Sentimentality, I can get. Exaggeration's just sad," Ban said.

Akabane's pout deepened. "It _is_ a lucky scalpel." He leaned around the corner and tugged on Maguruma's sleeve. "Tell him, Gouzou."

No-Brakes didn't take his gaze from the road. "Why should I after you just desecrated my truck? You know how much it costs to replace just one trailer door?"

"It was in the name of duty! It's not as if I bear any personal grudge against your precious vehicle." Akabane glared at him. "And we all know that you miss my winning streak. Admit it."

"Hmph. Jury's still out on that one."

"You miss it," Akabane said in an imperious tone, sitting back and crossing his arms.

"What'd he do, hang the knife from his rearview mirror to ward off speeding tickets?" Ban cracked.

Himiko answered. "Poker nights. Maguruma used to walk off with over five hundred thousand yen every time we went to one of our hangouts after work."

"Now he's fortunate if he breaks even," Akabane cut in with a smirk. "A lucky scalpel always beats four aces!"

Ginji reproached him. "That's cheating, Akabane-san."

Transporter and retriever stared each other down. Then Akabane said, "Gouzou, shall I tell them what happened to Shimano Two-Tips?"

Ban grimaced. "We don't want to know what happened to Shimano Two-Tips, do we?" He wasn't surprised when Akabane's smile reappeared in a devilish curl as the other man shook his head.

Ban cuffed Ginji on the ear. "You and your big mouth."

"It was an honest assumption," Ginji grumbled.

Akabane wagged a finger at him. "You know what they say about people who _assume_ things, Ginji-kun. A lesson that Shimano-san learned the hard way when he tried to stack the deck with extra cards." He nodded to Himiko. "Tell him, Lady Poison."

"Cards are sacred," she said, looking as though she were trying not to snicker at the ghost of a joke only she and Akabane were in on.

Ginji frowned while he tried to puzzle that one out. Ban just snorted. Akabane lifted his nose in the air. "It's lucky," he said, as if that sealed the discussion.

"What happened to all the warm Jackal fuzzies I was just getting? If I buy you a nice meat cleaver and gift-wrap it, will that calm your muddy waters some?" Ban needled Akabane.

"You ought to know by now how to properly court a lover," the other responded coolly. "Only the scalpel will do, if you expect to win any more of my affections." But Akabane didn't seem to mind when Ban moved closer to him and began planting openly sloppy kisses on the side of his neck, where skin was exposed above the shirt collar.

"It's the Scorpionic influence in him," Ban said, when the others gave him questioning glances.

"But you two are both Sagittarians," Himiko said.

"Hey, I know my stars." Ban toyed with a few strands of Akabane's hair. "Anyway, you can't be too mad at me. I know how Varlou makes his golems now. That means he'll be easier to beat."

That got Akabane's attention. He sat up straighter with a lifted eyebrow, clearly expecting full disclosure. Ban obliged.

"That's why he took your knife in the first place. He needs it in order to make his duplicates. It's the tool he uses to inscribe the activation spell in order to animate them."

"Magic!" Himiko snapped her fingers. "I knew it. I just knew it. Agdistis probably gave him the spell he used to steal it in the first place!"

Ban held back the dig he was about to lob at her and zeroed in on the other bit. "Who the hell is Agdistis?"

_"The_ Shadow Elite. He's the biggest transporter outside of the country. Anyone who's anyone in the _hakobiya_ knows of him, if they're not personally acquainted with him. Jackal's known him for ages," Himiko explained.

"Much to my sorrow," Akabane sighed facetiously.

Ban raised a brow at that, but said nothing when Himiko continued.

"He's at least as big a mystery as Babylon City is. But nobody dares tangle with him, for the same reason they don't want to mess with Jackal – those that know either of them, that is," she amended.

"He's another rival with a hatchet to bury?"

Maguruma spoke up. "Agdistis wants Akabane to work exclusively underneath him. This is his way of making an offer. Except that offer definitely has certain strings attached."

Akabane shot him a dirty look. "He's after you too."

Gouzou looked up into the rearview mirror, catching his cohort's eye with a grin. "Yeah, but the difference is, Aggie really wants you _under_ him, if you know what I mean."

Akabane made an irritable noise and looked away.

Ban didn't like what he was hearing. He edged his way up to the front of the cab to grill Maguruma some more. "So this ex of Jackal's - "

"Agdistis is not my ex!" Akabane hissed.

Ban made a conciliatory gesture in his direction. " - this...agent, he wants exclusive attack-dog rights with Jackal, so he's purposely tempting a fight? Does this jackass even know what he's dealing with?"

"Agdistis is...well... He's weird," Himiko blurted. "He knows full well the risks he takes. He just doesn't care."

"Great. Another whackjob."

"Far from it. Agdistis is crazy, all right, but his is the kind of crazy that's made a global empire of the world's best transporters. His Shadow agents have ferried missions in dozens of countries, for some of the world's most powerful leaders, even. They're renowned for their stealth and skill. So don't ever make the mistake of dismissing him," Himiko warned. "I've met him myself. He gives me the total creeps." She didn't bother to disguise the shiver that ran through her.

"Like I said, another whackjob," Ban muttered, thinking that this Agdistis must really be something for him to have gotten on Himiko's nerves, considering that she worked with Akabane. He turned back to his mate. "How'd you two cross swords?"

Akabane didn't answer right away. He let his eyes do a slow, deliberate crawl onto Maguruma's form. "You?" Ban said, curious as to how a levelheaded guy like No-Brakes would keep such outlandish company.

"That would be my fault," Maguruma agreed without rancor. "When Jackal was getting his feet wet in the business I sent him to an outfit that I knew would give him a good start for experience. Little did I know that that outfit was an offshoot run by the Shadowboxer himself. Akabane thinks I did it on purpose," he added with a chuckle.

"Did you?"

Maguruma winked at him in the mirror. "You know what the Americans say – don't ask and don't tell." He and Ban laughed at that.

If Akabane's pout could have deepened any further his lower lip would have made a handy shelf. "I'm so glad you all find your amusement at my expense. It seems Agdistis is not the only person who has a naughty habit of playing practical jokes," he growled quietly.

Ban ruffled his hair affectionately. "Aw, lighten up, Kuroudo. Once we've collected our money I'll help you hunt down the little cockroach so we can get your favorite stabbity back."

"Money. It's always money with you," Akabane sighed.

"Ban-chan is pretty mercenary," Ginji said. Himiko nodded with him.

Akabane clucked his tongue at Ban. "You should try to find more enjoyment, rather than obsess over the ever-fluctuating monetary."

"Need I remind you that money is what allows us to have that enjoyment in the first place?" Ban pointed out.

"I suppose." Akabane sighed again. "Europe calls, after all." He brightened at that, thoughts blossoming in his mind of all the vacation plans he and Ban were hoping to fulfill. "Shall I book our flight now, Ban-kun?" He took out his phone and began scrolling through its applications.

_"I'm sorry, doctor. You have requested an unavailable function. Please return to the main menu and try again."_

Purple eyes glazed over to solid ice. Without a word Akabane got up and leaned over Himiko, pressing the button to lower the window. The glass had barely rolled open an inch when he flung the offending device out onto the road, and a muffled crunching sound announced its messy demise.

"Was that really necessary?" Himiko groaned.

A pink-faced Ginji was trying very hard not to laugh. "Who knew that trashing electronics was one thing Akabane-san and I have in common!"

The phone murderer himself sat back down with a calmer look. "That's much better."

There was quiet for a few moments, and then Ban said, "Sure you don't want No-Brakes to stop and go back, run over it a couple of times just to make sure you wasted it?"

Akabane thought this over. "Would you, Gouzou?"

"The gravy train doesn't stop till we make our delivery," was the flat answer.

"Oh well." Akabane didn't seem all that bothered by the refusal. "I'll have Makubex-kun set me up with a new phone. One that doesn't espouse as much attitude. Really, I'm not about to tolerate rudeness, least of all from a defective piece of - "

Something flew past the still-opened window and pinged off the interior wall. A popping like small firecrackers, and suddenly the whole cab was flooded with light brilliant enough to be painful. Yells, squawks and cries of indignation and shock took over while Maguruma, eyes clamped shut to avoid the worst of the flash, hit the brake pedal and steered the truck to a shuddering halt. Ban heard someone fumbling near him, and reached out to grab at the person when another body was knocked into him. Ginji's yelp and the sudden squeal of rubber outside the truck that followed it gave him all the orientation he needed.

"The box!"

By then the cords had been ripped apart and the perp was bailing out of the cab with the item. The light was still too bright to see, but Ban chanced a razor-slit of a peek, and caught the tail end of a form that looked nothing like his blond partner, nor was it petite like Himiko's, and it certainly wasn't wearing a big black hat. But he did notice the split-second glint of something slender and suspiciously sharp swinging from a chain around the thief's neck, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

"JACKAL!"

Akabane hadn't even waited for Ban to scream his name; he too knew what was happening, but his fury stemmed from the enemy's adornment, rather than the intended source of their income. He launched himself at the Varlou-golem with a throaty snarl.

"The head, go for his head!" Ban hollered.

Whether or not Akabane heard him, he had no idea. The transporter's fingers, minus scalpels, curled into claws meant for blunt punishment, and both he and the culprit tumbled out of the truck's cab just as he hooked a solid grasp onto the opponent's shoulder. Both fighters landed in the back seat of the Party Crashers' escape car and the cherry-colored hot-rod took off into windswept oblivion, the driver apparently unaware of his extra passenger.

"Sons of bitches have the box and Jackal! Get a move on, No-Brakes!" Ban made to pound the back of the driver's seat and wound up hitting Himiko's arm instead.

"Damn it, Ban! Watch out!"

"Nobody's going anywhere until someone gets rid of that flash pellet!" Maguruma gritted his teeth, one arm still covering his face.

"Bastards...I'll make 'em choke mudballs, one way or another...!" Ban swore oaths profane enough to make Hades itself tremble as he floundered his hands along the floor of the cab, feeling for the source of the aggravating light. His fingers bumped someone else's – Ginji's, he thought – until finally another person – this time, perhaps it was Himiko – pushed something round and uncomfortably hot across his knuckles. Ban grabbed the burning pellet and hurled it out what he hoped was an open door.

Almost instantly the unbearable brightness cleared into normal lighting. Though nobody could yet see properly from being temporarily blinded, Gouzou had recovered enough to be able to drive. He threw the truck into gear and stomped the gas, inasmuch as a bulky semi-truck was capable of gaining instant momentum. Gravel spat from beneath the tires and pavement protested along with the wheels, but they lurched forward after the target and in seconds had a strong tail. Their pursuit was aided unknowingly by Akabane, who was tussling with both Varlou and Shah-tzi at the same time, giving the rival transporters such a hard time that the fight was spilling over into the driver's half of the car. Itoh Oil-Slick was swerving all over the road, struggling to maintain his speed and avoid being dragged into the fray.

"I can't run them off the road, or I'll risk squashing Jackal with them. What do you want me to do?" Maguruma asked Ban as they watched Shah-tzi leap onto Akabane's back to try, without success, to pull him off of Varlou's throat.

"Get next to them and keep it steady. I'm interfering whether Kuroudo likes it or not." Ban didn't wait for a reply; he went to the rear of the cab and braced himself within the space of the opened door. No-Brakes sped up and steered the truck until its side was level with the Crashers' car – about as level as it could be given their erratic path, at least – and Ban timed his moment to the inch. He shoved back from the cab and leapt into the enemy car, landing right next to the panicked driver.

Behind him Akabane was hissing bloodlust at the golem he kept attempting to strangle. "Give – me – my – scalpel!"

Ban ignored the battle behind him and seized Oil-Slick's hair in his left hand, using his leverage to thump the terrified man's forehead against the top of the wheel. "You stop this goddamn car right _now,_ or I'll rip off its steering wheel and stuff it so far up your own asshole no proctologist in the world is gonna be able to remove it!"

The man squalled like a baby but Itoh was no fool. He jammed both his feet on the brake, nearly causing the car to get pancaked by Maguruma's truck when it skidded and swerved perilously across the larger vehicle's path. In moments both transports had stopped, and Ban was able to turn his attention to the combat at large. He used one hand to wrest Shah-tzi away from Akabane and the other to corral his blissfully bloodthirsty Jackal – an action which predictably was unappreciated by the recipients.

Shah-tzi started to jab a penlike object towards Ban's arm but was promptly beaten off by a series of fumes jetting in her direction. Ban ducked the tongues of Himiko's flame perfume and managed to finish wrestling Akabane away from the thrashing golem.

"Stop it, Midou-kun! This is my fight, I won't let him get away!"

"You dolt, he's a fake! Watch," Ban told Akabane as he trapped the golem with his right hand. He yanked the scalpel off its chain and jabbed the point into the man's forehead, making a large scratch into the skin. Seconds later what was once Varlou's human form collapsed and melted into a pile of damp-smelling earth, complete with a few stray pebbles and squirming insects.

Akabane reared back slightly, frowning at the mess. "Bloody bollocks! What was that?"

"Golem," Ban answered, wiping his hands on one leg of his jeans – the knife he'd used had also turned to dirt at the moment of the creature's disintegration. "Yami dumbass's creation. Your blood – the scalpel – gives it its power; Varlou inscribes the spell to bring it to life. Here," he said, poking through some of the crumbling matter to reveal a partial set of characters scrawled on a piece of wilting parchment. "This one. 'Emet' means 'truth', which is another form of life. When I used the scalpel to scratch out the aleph marking in 'emet', it changed the meaning of the word from 'truth' to 'death.' Hence, no more boogeyman."

Akabane regarded him with fond awe. "You destroyed his decoy."

"That's how he's been able to give you the runaround. That's how he swipes all your transports." Ban nodded. "He sends his ghouls in to do the dirty work, then probably lies in wait somewhere near the drop-off point to collect the cash and the credit. But that shyster act ends as of right now," he said louder, directing their attention to the whimpering Itoh, who was worming halfway out of the car before Ban planted a rough boot in his back, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

"Where is he, speed racer? Huh? Where's your chickenshit leader? I owe him one!"

Akabane was right behind Ban. "Me too! Several ones, as a matter of fact! And he owes me a knife!"

Oil-Slick blubbered nonsensical pleas at first. It took the demonstration of what Ban's Snakebite could do to the front car fender to convince him that talking would be a far healthier option. "V-Varlou's hiding in the trunk. I swear, I swear," he burbled, pointing to the rear of the vehicle.

"You better be swearing truth or I'll turn you into a pile of mush just like I did his dirt-doll." Ban looked at Akabane. "Now's the time for fun, eh?"

Wicked delight spread like hot butter over Akabane's face. "Yes. Let's open our surprise package, Ban-kun!"

* * *

TBC


	56. Going For The Gold part 10

The trunk proved to be more difficult to open than expected. Ban's earlier bumper-car routine with it had done some minor damage to the lock, which had to be jimmied apart in order to pop loose its handle. While Himiko and Maguruma rounded up the other two Party Crashers, Ban made Ginji zap some current into the latch to loosen it, and when they lifted the lid they discovered the real reason for its initial refusal to open: to prevent them from taking back the transport item, their prey was squeezed into the impossibly tiny space, clutching onto the box and the lock's hasp for dear life.

Ban didn't mince words. He jerked a thumb backwards and snarled at the man. "Out!"

Never one to dance around the point himself, Varlou responded with his usual aplomb. "Bite me, you spawn of a witch!"

Ban's eyes narrowed dangerously, but before he could speak Akabane stepped in. "Perhaps he just needs a bit of encouragement to cooperate."

A black glove disappeared. Four metallic clicks, matched by four cherry-red blades sliding into view, suddenly filled the rival man's senses. Varlou's face turned ashen.

"Nice and easy, Doko-dipshit," Ban told him as he slowly clambered out of the trunk. "Wouldn't want any...accidents. Ginji - "

"Right, Ban-chan." His partner reached over and after a momentary lukewarm struggle, grabbed the box, which Varlou only relinquished after another glance at Akabane, who slid a measured knife across his jugular in no uncertain warning.

Ban immediately took over once Ginji and the box were clear and swatted Varlou against the back of the car, sending the man's anti-Jagan glasses flying into the dirt. He pulled back and hoisted the concealed grenade that Varlou had been about to pitch.

"Think you're funny, don't you? I hate wiseguys." He looked at Ginji. "They all want to be a comedy star just like that braying clown pal of yours!"

Ginji made a face. "Emishi's not that bad, Ban-chan - "

"Don't bother. As far as I'm concerned clowns are tangible proof of the existence of evil in this world," Ban said flatly.

"Says the one whose veins are full of tainted witch blood," the vanquished Varlou sneered. "I know all about your cuckoo family, your doddering grandma - "

Ban pointed a finger at him. "Plug it! Before I make what's left of your miserable life even worse." Varlou's eyes bulged when he pushed the grenade he was holding under the other's chin, making sure that the transporter could see that Ban's thumb was hooked around the still-intact pin. "You creeps lost. Deal with it!"

Maguruma stepped over the cowering Itoh after ungently nudging him aside with a booted toe, and nodded at Varlou. "Better search him, make sure he doesn't have any more nasty party favors." He rubbed at his eyes, which were still slightly watering from the irritation he'd sustained during the flash pellet attack.

No one moved right away, none of them wanting to find out the hard way what else might blow up in their faces. When several tense seconds passed without action, Ban reluctantly decided he'd have to be the (un)fortunate guinea pig. "Don't everybody rush in at once for that happy fun time," he grumbled, tossing the grenade to Ginji, who managed to catch it with a squeak while hanging on to the box he'd confiscated.

Ban wasn't in the least bit shocked to find a nice fat cache of miniature explosives secreted in various places within Varlou's clothing. Several were actually rigged to blow if unduly disturbed by curious fingers; they wouldn't have much harmed Varlou himself if they'd gone off, their force having been constructed to be outward-directed at the point of detonation, but Ban took no chances. Under his direction, Akabane disabled these with a nimble knife and plenty of surgical finesse.

"You shouldn't have fussed with us," Jackal told Varlou as he nicked off an offending trigger wire on one of the grenades, rendering it impotent for Ban to remove it and fling it off to one side along with the rest of them. "Now you're going to learn a lesson in proper respect. We aren't called the Dream Team for nothing, you know."

"Damn right," Ban agreed. "Get Backers plus transporters equals unstoppable awesomeness!"

Akabane rose from disarming the last device and eyed him with a raised brow. "I was referring to us transporters," he corrected, gently but firmly.

Ban frowned. "Wait. You three – " he glanced at Himiko and No-Brakes - "call yourselves the Dream Team?"

Ginji chimed in, single-handedly juggling the grenade Ban had given him. "Because you're everybody's worst nightmare, huh, Akabane-san? Uh, no offense," he quickly added.

Akabane smiled tolerantly. "No. It's because we're every client's perfect fantasy." Calm purple steel twinkled at his cohorts. "We're practical - "

"Efficient," Himiko said, brandishing a fresh bottle of a disturbingly orange substance at Shah-tzi, who was looking like she was rethinking a planned counterattack.

"And we stop at nothing to get our job done," Maguruma finished, stepping on Itoh Oil-Slick's back and pushing him to the ground again when he would have tried to scramble for freedom.

Akabane preened for the benefit of his allies. "You see? We work so well together – just like a dream."

"When it absolutely, positively has to be killed overnight, huh?" Ban said, doing his best to hold back a rude snicker as he studied the transporters with a newfound wary amusement.

"Why should work be just another four-letter obscenity? We make it interesting and fun, as it ought to be." Akabane smirked, and then a calculating light snuck into his eyes. "Speaking of which...if you'll kindly excuse me for a moment."

"Unfinished business," Ban explained to Ginji at the latter's puzzled nudge. "Quit playing with that thing and put it down before you do something stupid," he muttered, not liking the way that Ginji kept dangling the grenade off the ends of his fingers.

Akabane stepped closer to Varlou, enjoying the flinch that his presence garnered. The rival transporter had no compunction about taunting Jackal when he was assured of his security. Deposed and defenseless now, the other man was discovering much to his dismay what it felt like to stare down the lord of carrion and understand what it meant to confront death.

"You have something of mine. I'd like it back. Now," Akabane hissed quietly.

"Finders, keepers, my pet," Varlou replied, his voice only a trifle hesitant as his inherent pride insisted on making a last stand. "Why should I make it so easy for you when you continually spurn my offers? Don't you know, _mon cher,_ that I do what I do for you? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, after all."

He slowly, carefully, held out a hand palm-up toward Akabane. "Join me," Varlou dared. "We don't need any of these dead weights. I certainly can do without a pair of albatrosses." Angry and surprised grunts came from his two conspirators, but he continued. "You and I could do so much damage together. Your scalpels...my sais. We'd paint this town such a lovely shade of red, hmm?"

Ban spoke as he lit a fresh cigarette. "Boy, you really are a moron, aren't you, Mervin?"

Varlou glared at him, but Akabane spoke first. "Midou-kun, he is talking to me. Please don't interfere with our discussion."

Taking this as a sign of encouragement, the Party Crasher increased his seductive spiel. "Yes. Business between two professionals is of utmost importance." Hazel eyes gleamed with malevolence as Varlou stretched his hand closer to Akabane. "I know what you want most in this world, _mon cher._ I know what you crave. The ecstasy of the kill, the lure of fresh blood...I can give that to you. All that, and more. Why concern yourself with the rabble that only slow you down? You deserve the best of life. How about it, dear Kuroudo? Shall we abandon ourselves to our mutual pleasures?"

A heartbeat of silence gripped the two men and their witnesses. Akabane leaned towards Varlou, studying him with narrowed eyes. Finally he said, "You offer all this...to me."

Varlou smiled venomously. "But of course. With you under my wing, the world will be awash in the most beautiful bloodshed it has ever seen, while those who defy us fall by our blades."

"I the steel, and you the magnet," Akabane mused. "Why? Why should I be so special to your designs? There are plenty of other transporters who may withstand the mayhem of murder."

"But none as devastating as you," Varlou replied, grinning like a hyena.

Still, Akabane debated. "Oh, I don't know about that. There is Lady Poison. She is second only to me in the _hakobiya_ world."

The other transporter sniffed. "Please. I can do better than big brother's little runt - " He broke off and backed up a bit when Akabane spun and flattened him with a blazing glare.

"Do not mock the mistress of the seven poison perfumes! It is she who spares your wretched hide, not I." Akabane radiated menace as he advanced on the startled Varlou. "You dare to insult me, first by stealing what is rightfully mine, then by assuming I would stoop so low as to align myself with the likes of you!"

"And you know what they say about people who _assume_ things!" Ginji said suddenly. He paused, his face screwed up in confusion. "What do they say about people who assume things?"

Luckily for him, Akabane was in an expository mood. He answered Ginji, though he looked directly at Varlou. "People who take certain outcomes for granted when they have no business doing so deserve whatever they get when fate plays her cards."

Ban bumped Ginji on the back of his head. _"Assuming_ makes an _ass_ out of _you_ and _me._ And I said to put that damn thing down!"

Ginji digested this as he slowed in his bouncing of the grenade, then said, "But Akabane-san's not an – an ass..."

Akabane favored him with a benevolent smile. "Thank you, Ginji-kun." He turned back to Varlou, whose face was becoming a mottled red, and his smile evaporated like smoke in wind. "No. I'm certainly not so stupid to accept such a worthless contract, especially from one so dishonorable."

Varlou protested, holding up both hands. "But, Kuroudo, _mon cher,_ my pet Jackal - "

Akabane scowled downright thunder. "My friend Semimaru Kanade called me Kuroudo. Agdistis calls me _mon cher._ And Midou-kun calls me _his_ Jackal." He looked down his nose at Varlou as though the other man were a lump of rotten fruit. "You are none of them. And what is the one thing I have always said that matters most to me when I take on an assignment? What is the thing above all else that I judge a job according to?"

Again Ginji provided the bingo. "Entertainment!"

Akabane's smile could have brightened the entire galaxy.

Varlou laughed, but there was a tinge now of unease. "My dear doctor, if it's amusement you're after, I have no problem providing this, as much carnage as your dark little heart desires. Isn't that what you're looking for?"

Akabane shook his head as if expressing his disappointment with a small child's unsophisticated behavior. "Again, you insult me. That I should be so crude and base. And you wonder why I prefer him - " he flicked a momentarily affectionate glance at Ban - "to you. He understands. You do not." Akabane's face turned icy again. "Were I to yoke my will to yours, how long would it be, Varlou, before you invoked one of your runes to take full command of my powers like you've always wished?"

Varlou turned beet red and choked.

Akabane went on, the storm gathering with deadly precision in his eyes, his fanged smile. The softer his voice got, the greater everyone's discomfort spiked. Jackal was at his bloodiest when moving in for the kill – 'speak softly and carry a big sword,' as Ban might have put it. "You cannot possess what was never yours, when it was never given freely. Taking things that don't belong to you is what got you into this trouble in the first place. Don't you know? Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's property. Greed is a most grievous sin, you see, one of the deadliest."

"But I - "

"You couldn't be satisfied with just one scalpel, could you? No. That's not like you. That wouldn't be enough to assuage your sad inferiority complex when confronted with a far superior professional. You thought you'd try for the entire one hundred and eight, didn't you?"

"One hundred and ten now. Don't forget the bonuses," Ban said, and blanched when a knife whistled beneath his left earlobe, so close that he could actually feel the cold whisper of its flat side as it lightly kissed the flesh in its passing - "Okay, shutting up."

"Akabane-san sure doesn't like interruptions," Ginji murmured to Himiko, who rolled her eyes but nodded.

Akabane continued to lance the verbal wounds he was inflicting. "Manners, Varlou, never go out of fashion. That's the difference between you and Midou-kun. Oh, he is quite brusque, I agree, and he has terrible habits, and he expounds on a most vulgar vocabulary and indulges in the sin of gluttony far more often than is appropriate - "

This time Ban and Ginji just looked at each other. _So much for unconditional love,_ read the sardonic gleam in Ban's blues.

" - and he hasn't the faintest inkling when it comes to social graces," Akabane was saying. He was silent, and then he slid home the dagger. "But he shares the spirit of a kindred. He knows the true implications of the hunt."

"I know about hunting!" Varlou growled, and then yelped when a scalpel split a cross-section open on his bottom lip. Beads of red swelled and dripped.

"Don't interrupt," Akabane said mildly. "Midou-kun understands the invitation you fail to grasp. He is far too smart ever to consider looking into your depths." Pause. "He could have compelled me to his will. His power is an equal match for mine. Yet despite knowing this, he chose another approach."

A second lethal breath, and then: "He _asked_ me."

A long, slow smile spread across Ban's mouth. Then again, his Jackal could give as good as he got.

Varlou's eyes were wide and darting. He was fast sinking, and he knew it. "But – but Jackal, aren't I asking you now? Inviting you to join forces with me? Surely you don't believe that I would seek to dominate you - "

"Two dominant powers cannot share the same space within a covenant. Either one will consume the other, or they will both destroy one another," Akabane replied coldly. "You are tempting me, not asking me." He withdrew a knife again and stroked the flat edge of it along Varlou's cheek, making the other man grimace. "Now, then. Shall we get down to real business?"

"Wait a second, Akabane-san! You're not going to – " Ginji gulped.

Akabane silenced him with a raised brow. "Dear boy. I never said I wouldn't kill him, now did I?"

"But – "

Akabane held up a hand. "However. I also didn't say that I would cause him to perish either." He tapped a thoughtful knife against his lips. "I believe we can find a healthy balance here. I think this case calls for special treatment, don't you, Midou-kun?"

"Here we go," Ban said to Ginji with a knowing snort.

Akabane looked at Varlou. "Have you ever had a diverting colostomy? Ah, but of course you haven't, else you would not be as cavalier with your personal safety." Akabane nodded towards the pile of disarmed explosives he and Ban had taken off the rival transporter. "That would put quite a crimp in your physical activity, I daresay."

"Do we have to hear this medical lesson?" Maguruma half-groaned. "I'd like to have some appetite left after this job..."

"Patience, Gouzou," Akabane counseled him. He smiled at Varlou. There was no friendliness in it. "The intestines lie coiled in the belly like so much rope, or serpents." He cast a fond look at Ban. "It is through these lengthy lines that humans experience the full wonder of their digestive system, as the intestines pass on nutrients to the rest of the body once the stomach has broken down food and processed it, and the waste products move to the lower colon area, also known as the rectum, to await disposal via the anus."

"Get to the good part," Ban cracked. He'd heard this story before.

Akabane chuckled, his good humor restored now that he had a captive audience for his brand of medical wizardry. "I once helped perform such a transection on a patient who'd been struck by a mortar. Poor fellow had taken the hit right here," he explained, tracing a point on the left upper quadrant of his abdomen. "Among other things, his spleen was all but shattered and we had to remove its fragments as best we could to prevent further infection. Peritonitis and sepsis were constant threats. But he was remarkably gracious about it. He would always go to great lengths to put everyone at ease whenever it came time to attend to his bodily functions."

He cleared his throat pointedly. "You may ask, what happens to a person who loses this critical portion of intestinal anatomy? The biological wastes have nowhere else to go, is that correct?"

"Just one place." Ban aimed a devil grin at the paling Varlou. "It's shit-in-a-bag for you, buster. Unless you do as he says."

Varlou sent a panicky look at Akabane. The latter's smile would have put razors to shame.

"You will return my scalpel to me _this instant,_ if you wish to continue enjoying the benefits of a fully functional gastrointestinal tract. Otherwise I shall carve you into so much mincemeat that not even all the Lightning Emperor's horses and all the Lightning Emperor's men will have the proverbial snowball's hope of patching you back together, _you odious scatological dumpling!"_

Awed silence greeted Akabane's proclamation for several minutes before a muted noise filled the air. Hands met hands as one by one, transporter and retriever alike from both Get Backers and Dreamers rewarded a cursing well done with increasingly enthusiastic applause.

Ban was laughing the loudest. "Way to go Jackal!"

Akabane smiled and affected a modest bow.

"Next step, actual swearing. We gotta get you started on the creative use of f-bombs," Ban said.

"Midou-kuuuun," Akabane sighed.

"C'mon, Kuroudo. Your voice gets me hard as hell when you drop one of those. You know I'm right."

Akabane pursed his lips in disapproval. "There's a world of difference between harmless pillow talk in the boudoir and inconsiderate public coarseness." He snapped his ungloved fingers at Varlou and splayed them outward to claim his belonging.

Grudgingly, the beaten man unhooked the shining knife from around his neck. With a twisted pucker of lip he thrust it at Akabane, his eyes pinched to slits of fury. "You'll regret this, Jackal. You'll wish you'd taken up my offer."

"Taken it and shoveled it where the good Shinjuku sun doesn't shine on your person, no doubt," Akabane shot back seamlessly, much to Himiko's and Ban's amusement. "The spell. Remove it." He turned the knife around so that its handle was extended toward Varlou.

"No can do, sweetheart," the Crasher spat. "Magic's funny like that sometimes, you know."

Akabane didn't blink. "You got that magic from Agdistis. You forget that I trained as an agent underneath him. I know how he operates. He would never give out such sensitive information without also providing the method with which to deactivate it." He paused and then added for his cohorts' benefit, "Granted, he likes to make you work for it...but I suppose that's part of what makes it so interesting." Akabane's lips curved into a small pout. "Even if it is on the aggravating side."

He poked the scalpel butt-end roughly into Varlou's forehead. "Scratch out the annulment or I'll scratch you out."

Varlou flushed pinker. "You just said you wouldn't kill me!"

"But can you trust me, the infamous Doctor Jackal? I'm known as a Judas, after all," Akabane said, turning and winking at Ban just then. "Once the job is complete, I shall do as I please. Isn't that so, Himiko-san? Mr. No-Brakes?"

"Always has been, always will be," Himiko nodded.

"True blue, that," Maguruma agreed.

The other two Party Crashers, who until now had judged it wiser to keep quiet until an opportunity presented itself for retaliation, joined the verdict. "Christ, Varlou, don't you know when to quit while you still have a head? Give him back the damn knife already!" Shah-tzi snapped.

"Yeah, you said this was gonna be easy, like all the others!" Itoh Oil-Slick complained. "Then you crap out on us too? Screw you, Mervin Stuyvessant! I'm never working with your lying cheating ass again!"

"Wise choice," Gouzou told him, letting up just a little on his pressure against Itoh's body.

Varlou snarled wordless disgust at them and whipped out a sai blade. Under Ban's watchful eye, he scribbled the mark that would forever relinquish his hold on Akabane's scalpel. The blade flashed silver, glittered for a few seconds, then returned to its normal blue-white glow. Akabane clutched it like a child with a beloved toy.

"Welcome back, my darling. How I've missed you so!"

"Be nice if I got the same greeting when I come back from a tough mission," Ban said with not-so-subtle emphasis while Akabane danced around lavishing attention on his long-lost knife. He shook his head and blew a gust of amused exasperation. "Guess there's only one thing left to do..."

"Ban-chan?"

Ban strolled over to Varlou, enjoying the way the Crasher automatically leaned away from him. "After-sale service," he said, the snakelike grin back with fresh triumph. "Say hello to your worst nightmare, courtesy of the _double_ Dream Team!"

He looked right into Varlou's eyes and pulled down his own glasses, freeing his power to spiral into being. Right as the Jagan unfolded his victim's eyes flew wide, then Varlou's face crinkled into malicious glee as hazel suddenly gave way to a startling green. Ban felt the red-hot scrape of cold metal and hissed incredulous rage as the sai blade struck again at his midsection.

"Anti-Jagan eye contacts, sucker!" Varlou laughed, and raised the dagger a third time…

* * *

TBC


End file.
